The Curse's Bounty
by Kira Mackey
Summary: Aldric is quietly living in Falkreath after defeating Alduin. One day, he runs into a mysterious huntress in the woods who begins to let him into her life. He immediately discovers nothing is what it seems, and that he has the chance to help save her life and wipe out an evil threatening her and her kind. Rated M for violence and smut. Werewolves and vampires, Dragonborn/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

Aldric jogged lightly through the forest, enjoying his time alone. He was in the outskirts of the Pine Forest, not far from Whiterun. At first he had stuck to the road, but the soft grass had beckoned to him. He had cut through a narrow pass between two small mountains until he was here.

The grassland under his feet was thick enough to count as a meadow, and it perfumed the air with a sweet, clean scent. He stayed near the shady trees in the area out of habit, but his guard was down and he wasn't worried about conflict.

A movement to his right caught his eye, and he immediately sank into a crouch and crept into the thicket of trees near him. A massive elk came toward him from the southwest, gracefully bounding through the woods almost noiselessly.

The creature was nearly level with him when it slowed to a halt and lowered its head to graze. Aldric considered its antlers and size, both of which were impressive. He drew his bow and had barely nocked an arrow when there was a low-pitched whizzing sound.

The bull let out a musical squeal and fell to the ground, a red-tipped steel arrow protruding from directly behind its shoulder. An expert shot. Most likely a hunter, but Aldric tensed nevertheless, waiting for the shooter to claim its prize. He knew bandits freely roamed the area.

After a long moment, Aldric was surprised to see a figure drop down from the rocky formations a few dozen feet away. The hunter ran swiftly and low to the ground, making a beeline to the bull's body.

Relaxing, he rose from his position to the ground and approached, intending to see if the person offered anything to sell.

"Nice shot," he greeted the hunter.

The figure froze, clearly surprised by Aldric's sudden appearance. He realized that his bow was still in his hand, and before he could put it up, the person rose to their feet.

The hunter wore dark leather, looking closer to armor designed for combat than for hunting. The cuirass and trousers he was looking at were reinforced at the knees and elbows, and tight to the limbs. He recognized good craftsmanship in the sleek boots.

What bothered him most of all was the hood. A wide piece of fabric stretched across the hood, hiding most of the face from view and leaving only the eyes, which were hidden in shadow by the angle of the sun. He had seen headpieces like that before—on assassins.

There was a brief, tense pause as they measured one another, and then the hunter stepped forward possessively toward the elk.

"I've been tracking this bull since damn near the Jerall Mountains," a distinctly feminine voice said. She pulled off her hood and glared first at Aldric's bow, and then him. "He's mine."

He slung his bow onto his back and put his hands out to her. "I'm not arguing with you. I didn't know anyone was tracking him when I started to line up my shot."

Scowling, she knelt to retrieve her arrow. Aldric was a little surprised to see that the faintly threatening figure he had been assessing was a female, and an attractive one at that. He chastised himself then—plenty of tough enemies he had been up against had been women.

But not ones that looked like her. The hair that had been hiding under the hood was impossibly dark, black even. It was startling against her fair skin and high cheekbones. Her eyes were pale and rested beneath straight dark brows that were currently still frowning at him.

He realized that she was watching him watch her. "That was a good shot."

She slipped the arrow from the bull's side carefully. "You said that already."

So he had. "Well, I meant it. Most hunters I've seen probably couldn't land an elk at that distance."

"I'm not most hunters," she said. She pulled out a steel dagger and started to slice the bull open.

"I noticed, from the armor. I've never seen anything like that. Did you make it yourself?"

She stopped what she was doing and looked directly at him. "Are you writing a book or something?"

"I'd need your name to write a book," he said, and then internally cringed. _Very smooth, Aldric. _

She resumed dressing the bull, but not before he caught a slight eye roll. "Rory."

"I'm Aldric." He resisted the urge to hold out his hand to her. He sensed she wouldn't shake it, even if she weren't elbow-deep in elk.

"I don't have anything for sale," she said suddenly, as if she had just realized that might be what he wanted.

He waved a hand. "I can head to town to find supplies. I don't hunt much in the area, though."

She pulled out the bull's entrails and dumped them into the grass abruptly with a wet sound. Hands covered in blood, she wiped a stray tendril of hair away from her forehead with her arm.

At the smell and sight of the blood, Aldric's beast stirred inside him, almost like lazily raising its head from a nap for a sniff at the air. He patiently waited for the rush of excitement and anticipation to fade; it was much easier to handle now than it had been in his early days of being a werewolf. Not nearly as overwhelming.

Rory picked up her knife again. "What are you after? Anoriath in Whiterun has a good selection of meat. If you're after pelts, you'd be better off finding a hunter. Neither shops in Falkreath or Whiterun stock much."

"Truthfully, I was after these antlers," he admitted.

She gave him a sideways glance. "Tell you what. I don't need the antlers and they won't fetch a good price unless I go to a city, and I'm not up for that kind of trip. I'll give them to you if you help me haul these cuts back. He was bigger than I thought and there's a lot of meat here."

He grinned. "Sure thing."

While Rory wrapped up the cuts she had taken from the bull, Aldric offered to skin the pelt. She accepted, and he could feel her watching him from time to time as he worked. After a while, he concentrated fully on what he was doing when he got to the more tedious parts.

"You mentioned you don't hunt much," she said.

He separated the pelt from a particularly tough section with a grunt. "I'll take down what I see if I need it, but no, I don't go out in search of game."

"You live in town?"

_Which town?_ he wanted to ask, but he didn't feel the need to mention he owned property in several hold capitals. He sensed it wouldn't impress Rory. "No, but I pass through a lot."

"You travel, then?"

A certain curious lilt in her voice made him think she was trying to find out what he did. Living on the road could mean wholesome things like an adventurer, bard, or merchant, but it could also mean darker things like a bandit, mercenary, thief or even an assassin.

"Lately, yes. I've been on the road a lot." He didn't know how to answer the question.

She was quiet for a moment. "Do you have it all, then?"

He gathered the pelt and turned. "I do."

She was closer than he'd thought. Her eyes were unusual, silvery and coppery at the same time. This close, he could see the thick black lashes surrounding them, and he noticed that her mouth was an appealing rosy shade. Her lips looked soft.

She lifted a section of the pelt near his arm. "Good work."

"Thank you."

She looked up at him and stepped back, seeming to think she was too close. He watched as a delicate blush bloomed in her cheeks. "I don't live far from here, close to Falkreath. They have a decent inn there."

"So I've heard."

"Well, are you ready to go?"

"Ready when you are."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**Hey all! I forgot to add my notes in the first chapter. I hope you guys like this story, I know the first chapter was a bit dry. It'll pick up from now on, promise. Get ready for some action!  
I welcome reviews and feedback-seriously, bring it!-and I will reply to anything and everything. **

**By the way, I have based Aldric's physical description of the character I'm actually playing at the moment (who just made his first trip to Solstheim). He is actually quite good-looking, if I do say so myself! ;-)**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Rory was regretting her decision to invite Aldric along with her about ten minutes into the journey. She was grateful for the help—she didn't truthfully think she could have hauled the meat, antlers _and_ the pelt—but the man's presence was distracting.

Instead of watching the road and keeping her focus on her surroundings, she was listening to the crunch of his feet on the path, the sound of his breath coming in soft pants as he exerted himself to keep up with her.

She was annoyed with herself for being so fascinated with him, and that was without looking at him…which she was determinedly avoiding. He was too handsome for his own good, and she was already distracted enough.

When he had stepped out of the shadows before she could reach the felled bull, she had practically been stunned senseless. He looked like some ancient Nordic god of the hunt. Dressed in light brown leather armor with no sleeves that showed off his muscled arms, with tousled jaw-length hair the color of pale butter…the overall effect was unfair.

It only got better—worse—the closer he came. He had intensely masculine features, with a strong jaw and bold nose, yet he had a friendly face. His mouth seemed like it was permanently curved into a half-smile, even when he was watching her warily with those ice-blue eyes.

Rory knew that her default reaction to people, especially men, was to be rude and chase them off. Even this strange man, no matter how good-looking and strong and tall he was, wasn't allowed to get close to her.

Damn his easy grin and smiling eyes. He had somehow managed to get her to drop her guard long enough to worm his way along with her. The longer time went on, however, the more sturdily her guard reinforced itself.

She wondered if she could lose him in the woods. Her home wasn't far from here but she doubted he'd be able to find it. It wasn't easily spotted from any discernible path, and he'd be limited by the pelt and the antlers.

As luck would have it, the sun was making its way toward the horizon. Dusk, the time of day with the worst visibility, wasn't far off. She tensed her muscles, preparing to make a break for it, and aimed for a thick copse of firs not far away.

"Is it much further now?" he asked suddenly from slightly behind her.

Her concentration broke, and she slumped her shoulders. "No. About another mile. Why, getting tired?"

"No, but I am getting thirsty and hungry," he admitted, his deep voice boring into her eardrums.

She felt bad for a moment. "It's in the shadow of the mountain here. We're getting close."

True to her word, after about fifteen minutes they drew up to a cobblestone road, the main road to Falkreath and beyond. Rory turned up a worn dirt path, and Aldric dutifully followed.

As she approached the bush she usually turned off at, she wondered if she was making a mistake. She had an excellent feel for people, and Aldric seemed like an honest, kind person—despite having just met him, she sensed no ill will or cruelty in him.

Besides, it was too late now to try to leave him. She walked past a dragontongue bush, a foreign plant to the area but one she had planted there to mark the turnoff. Casually, she went another ten feet and then drifted to the left, off the marked path.

Another hundred feet into the forest, and she was standing in front of her home. It was decently camouflaged; the walls were a neutral grayish-green color, blending into the dappled sunlight, and bushy ivy climbed all over the structure. It rested in a semicircle of firs.

Rory noted the absence of chimney smoke with approval. One of her chickens strutted past, scouring the ground for any loose feed. She fished in her pocket for the key and pulled it out.

"Well, here it is," she said as she unlocked the door. She stuck her head in and looked around, then stepped over the threshold.

Aldric followed, and she set the heavy bundle of meat down next to the floor. She turned to see him looking at the lock, touching it with a finger like he was taking the measure of it. When he caught her watching him, he closed the door behind him and stepped further into the house.

"Did you build this place?" he asked.

She picked up the sack. "My father and mother did."

"Do they live here?"

"No, they're dead.

He blinked. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it was a long time ago." She opened the sack on the table she used to prepare food. Pulling out four massive cuts, she estimated she had enough to make a few steaks, and the rest could be used for stew. "I think maybe I can repay you with some supper. Do you like venison stew?"

He cocked a dark brow. "I thought I was getting the antlers?"

"You are," she assured him, "but I was going to leave them anyway."

"Well, I never turn down home-cooked food," he said with a grin, and sat down at the table to watch.

Things were looking up. Rory seemed to be friendlier to him, and he was getting the majestic set of antlers as well as a hot meal, all for free.

Aldric settled into the bench, watching her prepare the food. He had offered to help, but she turned him down. He'd picked up a satchel of potatoes anyway, and was scrubbing them in a pot of water by the fire.

The house was impressively hidden away in the forest. It wouldn't be found from the path or the road. Aldric suspected Rory had purposely disguised it to blend into the surrounding trees and shadow. Even a passing bandit or wandering adventurer might not notice the dwelling if they weren't looking at it.

He was starting to believe she was hiding from someone. Her unusual armor was a tip-off, as was the hidden house. Women living alone had reason to be cautious, but not like this. Bringing up the topic was sure to spook her, so he simply kept to himself about it.

There was a soft clatter from upstairs, and out of the corner of his eye, Aldric saw Rory freeze. He was about to ask what the matter was, when a soft, childlike voice drifted down the stairs.

"Can I help?"

Aldric turned his head to look up the stairs, then at Rory. She was still frozen, her eyes slightly widened as she locked her gaze with his. He raised his brows in a silent question, and then Rory slammed her palms on the table. The stew ingredients bounced.

"_Damn it_, Lilly!" she shouted, shoving away from the table violently. "What have I always said?"

"You didn't say the secret word!" the voice protested.

"It doesn't matter!" Rory snapped. She stomped to the stairs, glaring upward.

"Well, it's too late now. Can I come down? I want to help with supper."

Rory made a loud, irritated sound.

"I don't mind kids, honest," Aldric said, trying to defuse the situation.

She snapped her head around, turning her fierce gaze on him. "Don't you start."

"Start what? It won't bother me." He shrugged, turning his attention back to the potatoes.

"See? He likes me," the voice piped up.

Rory stalked away from the stairs, her face angry and anxious at the same time.

Trying not to be too conspicuous, Aldric looked over his shoulder to watch the stairs. Slowly, a young girl made her way to the kitchen. She had dark hair and light eyes, like Rory. A plain yellow dress hung on her slim frame. A totally normal kid.

"What are you looking at?" Rory demanded.

"Well, from your reaction, I was expecting a horrible monstrosity to come down. But she's not that scary." Aldric gave a conspiratorial wink to the girl.

She rewarded him with a bright smile. "My name's Lilly. What's your name?"

"Aldric. Pleased to meet you, Lilly."

Rory watched the exchange with narrowed eyes.

Lilly climbed onto the bench near the table. "Don't mind her," she said, pulling the leaves off a carrot. "She's mad all the time."

"I am not mad all the time," Rory insisted. Her voice was still heated, but she wasn't as angry as she had been. "I'm mad right now, but I wasn't mad earlier."

"You…were kind of mad," Aldric interjected.

Lilly giggled.

"Stop trying to be her friend," Rory said abruptly. "You're not fooling me, and you're not fooling her, either."

Aldric watched as Lilly turned away from him and looked at the table. He wasn't sure, but he thought she looked sad.

"I can leave, if you want," he offered, standing.

Just as he said that, a loud crack of thunder burst overhead. Rory closed her eyes in annoyance and grimaced. "Well, I can't ask you to leave now, can I? I may be _mad_ all the time," she said, with a pointed glance toward Lilly, "but I'm not mean."

"He can stay?" the girl asked, looking up at Rory.

She didn't answer, only turned away to finish preparing the food.

"After we eat, can you show me your bow?" Lilly asked, shyly walking closer to Aldric.

"Lilly." A word of warning from Rory.

"You can look at it now, if you want," Aldric offered. He picked up the bow where it lay on the floor next to him.

It was rather heavy. He held it out to her with both hands, prepared to help her if she couldn't hold it. But she reached out and picked it up with no sign of strain, her eyes huge.

Impressed, he watched her run her hands over the sleek limbs, and she examined one of the sharp knobs. "What is this made of? I've never seen anything like it."

"It's a dragonbone bow," he answered her, well aware that Rory was watching.

Lilly's jaw dropped. "It _is_?"

"Sure is."

"Made from _real_ dragonbone?" She looked back down at the bow. "How did you get it?"

He smiled. "I made it."

"You _killed_ a dragon?"

He avoided the question. "Have you ever seen one?"

Lilly was looking at him like he was a god. "A few times. Sometimes they fly over the mountains. They make horrible sounds."

He agreed with that. He had killed over two dozen himself, and he had stopped fearing them, but hearing the distant roar of a dragon never failed to send a prickle down the back of his neck.

"Lilly, help me with the food. Cut these carrots for me."

The girl looked at Rory, then turned back to Aldric and reverently held out his bow. He took the weapon from her and was again impressed that her arms didn't shake or bend with the weight.

The storm started in earnest not long after Rory set the cooking pot over the fire. The thunder was so loud overhead at times that the plates stacked on the table rattled. Aldric was preoccupied with the pelt he had taken from the elk earlier, and didn't realize something was wrong until he looked up.

Rory was crouched on the floor in the kitchen, talking low and quietly to Lilly. The girl was standing stock-still, her hands clamped over her ears, eyes squeezed shut. Another clap of thunder rolled across the valley, and she let out a half-shriek.

"She's afraid of thunder," Rory said absentmindedly as he approached.

"I can see that," he replied.

Lilly peeped open one eye to look at him, and then lowered her arms self-consciously. "You're not afraid of it, are you?"

"No," he answered easily, "but you don't have to worry. Storms don't last long this time of year."

"That's what I said," Rory told him.

"How do you know?" Lilly whimpered miserably.

He smiled. "That's the easy part. There's a trick to it, want me to show you?"

She nodded.

"Well, first you wait for the next bolt of lightning." He looked around for the nearest window.

It was then that he realized there weren't any windows in the house. Puzzled, he looked at Rory, who looked back at him blankly.

"Ah, okay. Well, let's go outside. Just for a minute," he suggested.

Lilly's eyes widened a fraction, and she braced her legs. "I don't want to."

"We'll just open the door for a moment so I can show you. I'll be right there, I promise." He held up his hand.

Warily, she followed him to the door, Rory close behind. He opened the door and stood in the threshold. It was raining steadily, but the eaves of the roof protected him from the water.

He turned to Lilly. "When you see the lightning, count how many seconds it takes for the thunder to follow," he called, his voice raised over the sound of the wind.

A moment later, a streak of light lit up the night sky. He counted. _Crack_. Thunder shook the forest around them.

Lilly stepped up to the door next to him, looking up. "Four seconds," she yelled.

"That's right!" he shouted back. "That means the heart of the storm, where the sound is coming from, is four miles away. A second for every mile."

"Really?" she asked him, looking skeptical.

"Really."

"I feel a little better," she admitted, crossing her arms.

Aldric caught a flash of movement, out in the brush in front of the house. He instinctively moved in reaction, not even aware of it, and that was what saved his life.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

**Woohoo, first review! Thanks, and keep 'em coming! I'm the kind of author that needs encouragement if you like it. **

**Here's the first fight scene; I hope you like action in your stories. I love to write it and put it in frequently. **

**Also, keep an eye out for cameos of your favorite characters in future chapters. ;-)**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The dagger buried itself in his shoulder. Lilly let out a piercing scream as he pitched to the side and dropped. Breathing hard, he rolled to his hands and knees and moved away from the open door.

Rory kicked the door shut and twisted the lock. "Lilly!" she barked, her voice sounding hard and authoritative. "You know what to do!"

Lilly was bone-white, but she nodded and ran up the stairs. Rory dropped to her knees and rolled Aldric onto his back.

He didn't fight it. Dark blood welled up around the blade. He could feel it trickling down his skin under his armor. "It missed," he muttered.

Rory's fingers probed the area gently to confirm it did indeed miss his heart. "Don't move. They'll be back."

"Who?" he grunted.

She didn't answer, only rose to her feet. "Lilly!" she shouted again.

"I'm coming!"

There was a clatter, and then Lilly sped down the stairs. She held a sword in each hand, sleek and black. Through the pain, Aldric recognized the ebony crafting. Lilly handed them gingerly to Rory, and when the girl turned, he saw a dagger of her own strapped to her leg. The yellow dress was gone, replaced with a tunic and pants.

"What's happening?" he asked dimly. His shoulder throbbed, and his mind felt foggy; was the blade poisoned?

A cracking sound at the door answered him. He scuttled away from it, fighting not to yell at the tearing and burning sensation in his arm. The distinct sounds of a person throwing themselves at the door continued.

There was muffled conversation outside, and then a second or two of silence. Rory never took her eyes off the door.

There was a sharp whistling through the air, and Aldric recognized the sound a split second before the impact occurred. He barely had time to shield his face. The fireball hit the door and exploded, wood shards and fragments ripping through the air.

Figures blew through the open doorway in an instant. Aldric caught the glowing eyes before anything else. Vampires.

There were three of them, and a chill went through him. Rory stood a damn good chance against a group of bandits, but three vampires?

The first one lunged at Rory, holding a dagger. She parried the slashing blow to her face, and with a swift lunge, she cut off the arm that held the blade. The vampire shrieked and threw himself at her, teeth snapping.

She was still turned slightly to the side with the force of her first blow, and she braced her feet and swung her arm back defensively. Her elbow slammed into the vampire's jaw with a nasty cracking sound.

In the same fluid movement, her left sword arm followed through. With a vicious snarl, she drove the ebony sword up into his chest, lifting him off his feet for a moment. She kicked him in the chest as he dropped and freed her weapon with a wet sucking sound.

Time stopped as she resumed her offensive crouch. The two remaining vampires had watched without intervening, though their rage at their brother's death showed in their faces.

"You've grown stronger," the vampire on the left hissed, a tall Altmer woman.

"We both have," she answered. "You won't touch her."

"We'll see about that." The Altmer pulled back her arm and cast another fireball.

Rory ducked and rolled away, and the ball of flame soared over her head and exploded into the cabinets on the far wall. Lilly shrieked again, scrambling on all fours to where Aldric was.

Angrily, he looked at where his weapons were on the floor near the fireplace, across the room and next to the vampires. He was never very good with spells, and he didn't want to attract the vampires' attention to where Lilly now hid. A Shout wouldn't work either—Rory was too close.

With a start, he remembered there was something he could do. He yanked at the dagger and felt all the blood drain from his face when his pull did nothing. It drove a hot spike of pain into his shoulder, but didn't budge.

"Lilly," he panted, rolling his head up to look at her.

She looked down at him, face scrunched up in fear.

"You need to help me. Help me pull the knife out."

She didn't argue with him or cry. She moved around to kneel at his shoulders and carefully grabbed the hilt of the dagger with both hands.

"Brave girl," he murmured. "Pull as hard as you can, straight up. Move your head out of the way."

"But won't that hurt your arm even worse?" she asked, her voice shaking.

There was a scream from the fight in front of them, and Lilly flinched. Another fireball ripped through the room, narrowly missing Rory as she fought with the second vampire. This one had a sword of his own, a nasty daedric blade with a serrated edge.

He turned to Lilly hastily. "It won't matter. Promise. You can do it, Lilly, you're brave."

She nodded, and tightened her grip on the handle. "Count."

He kept his eyes steady on hers. "One. Two. Three…"

She tore the dagger free in one pull. Aldric yelled, and blood began to flow from the wound. Lilly scrambled back, still clutching the bloody knife.

The room swam, but Aldric forced himself to roll onto his hands and knees. He tore at his cuirass, ripping through the buckles and leather. He had to concentrate to bring his beast these days—his control had grown vastly—but with the fighting, and the blood, and the smell of Lilly's fear in his face, he didn't have to look far.

He let out another hoarse yell. The Altmer vampire noticed him, and she turned to him, shouting a warning to her companion. The air around Aldric began to shimmer, like heat waves from a hot stone, and he saw her molten yellow eyes widen in fear. She cast a summoning spell between herself and Aldric.

He turned to Lilly, body vibrating. "Be brave," he reminded her. His voice had gone painfully deep with an edge of growl.

His muscles tore as his bones cracked, shifted, and grew into their new shape. His skin split as black fur sprouted from beneath. He turned his head away from Lilly, not wanting her to see as his face lengthened horrifically, his teeth clattering to the floor to make way for the newer, sharper ones.

He rose to his feet at the same second that the summoning spell finished. A gargoyle unfolded from the sphere, stretching his wings with an ear-splitting screech. Aldric shifted his shoulder, feeling that the wound was completely healed.

With a snarl, he turned toward the gargoyle. The creature gathered its legs and leapt at him, a short, violent movement. It slammed into Aldric, and he staggered, but he didn't lose his footing.

Clawing at him viciously, the gargoyle used its hands as well as its wings, beating at him. Aldric roared in his face, suddenly furious. With a mighty shove, he crashed into the gargoyle's chest and knocked it on its back.

The creature landed on one of its own wings with a _snap_. Squealing and thrashing in pain, it tried to get its feet under Aldric to kick him away, but he dropped all his weight on the gargoyle, crushing its legs.

Rory gasped in pain, and he looked up to see the third vampire's sword catching her across the ribs. The gargoyle took the opportunity to strike at Aldric's head, its fist connecting with his head in one powerful blow.

His head rocked back, and he turned with another roar. He went for the gargoyle's throat, but it hunched its shoulders and fought him off with his arms as if it knew what he was doing. It landed another punch to his face.

Enraged, Aldric thrust his hand into the gargoyles' mouth, the long claws on his fingers puncturing through the bottom of its jaw for leverage. With a scream of triumph, he ripped the gargoyle's entire lower jaw off. Blood spattered the wall.

The creature's body twitched before it disappeared, making its way back to Oblivion. His bloody hand now empty, he turned his head to see what was happening behind him.

The vampire with the sword lay motionless on the floor, minus his head. Rory sprawled not far from him, clutching her side and gasping. She had lost the sword in her right hand.

The Altmer vampire stood before Rory, holding Lilly in front of her body. She looked at Aldric very pointedly before turning to face Rory again. She was clearly threatening; _Try something and the girl dies_.

"You knew this day would come, my dear," the vampire said. Her voice was cold and had lost its mocking tone.

"This," Rory ground out, pushing slowly to her feet, "isn't over. Not while I still live."

"I'm afraid that won't be for much longer. You see, my master bade me to capture both of you alive, if it was possible." The vampire stroked Lilly's head impassively as she spoke. "He told me that if you were wounded, but alive, to bring you as well as this lovely creature. But I see now that that will not be possible. I see that you will never submit, that you cannot be broken."

"Smart for a walking corpse." Rory's teeth were stained pink with blood.

"I do apologize. It is such a waste to not bring both of you back as a prize. _Do_ give my regards to your mother and father for me, won't you?"

Rage rippled across Rory's face, and a bound sword appeared in the vampire's hand. Aldric made eye contact with Rory from behind the vampire's back, and she shook her head at him, almost imperceptibly.

The vampire drew her arm back for the killing strike, just when Aldric was about to launch himself. He couldn't stand by and do nothing while someone was killed in front of him.

The vampire's body jerked violently, like she had been electrocuted. She made a strange, wet gasping sound, and then dropped to her knees.

Lilly stood facing her, her dagger buried in the Altmer's chest. Aldric could see that, from the angle, it had to be a direct blow to the heart. Lilly dropped her hold on the blade and rushed back to stand next to Rory.

The vampire slowly fell backward to the floor. Her eyes glazed, and then her face fell slack with death.

There was nothing but silence for a moment as all three of them surveyed the carnage. Then Lilly's soft crying filled the room. It grew to sobbing, and Rory's remaining sword clanged on the floor as she hugged the girl to her.

Rory's eyes met Aldric's again, and he lowered his arms. He moved closer to the table, aware of his deep, rasping breathing and the heavy steps he took. He didn't want to frighten the two of them.

Lilly turned to look at Aldric, and though she was still sniffling, she didn't seem frightened at all. "I was brave."

He wanted to say so much to her, but all he could do was solemnly nod his head. _Yes, you were brave, little one_.

Rory closed her eyes and hugged Lilly again. The girl pulled back and looked down. "You're hurt real bad, aren't you?"

Rory gently laid her hand over the wound. "I don't know."

Lilly's face folded as she started to cry again. "You are."

Aldric caught the scent of Rory's injury, and his beast perked up. He couldn't place it, but she suddenly smelled more…familiar.

He crept closer, and when his shadow would tower over them, he dropped to all fours. Sniffing gently, he pushed his head past Lilly and smelled the wound.

His wolf was excited. Rory smelled like him, like pack. Aldric rolled his eyes up to look at Rory. _What is this?_

She seemed to know what he meant and closed her eyes. "It's a long story."

Blood rolled from the wound again as she moved. Aldric was dimly aware that there were healing potions, priests, spells, but he was compelled to do something else, something instinctual.

Without waiting for permission, he lowered his mouth to her and licked the wound. Rory jumped, but didn't push him away or yell. He cleaned the blood from her in long sweeps of his tongue, making sure to pass over the gash.

After a moment, he pulled back, satisfied. The wound didn't bleed anymore.

"It looks better!" Lilly gasped.

Aldric moved back, sensing the change. His wolf form retreated into his body, returning him to a man. This process was much less painful than the other, but once he was human again, he was exhausted.

He slumped on all fours, then lowered himself to the floor. "What was that?"

"I'll tell you everything, tomorrow," Rory said. She moved gingerly, Lilly helping her stand up. "Tonight, I think we just need to rest."

She didn't say anything else as she walked slowly up the stairs.

Aldric rolled over onto his back, an echo of his earlier movement after the dagger had been thrown at him. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered what the hell had just happened.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **A few shout-outs: huge thank you to **Guest** and **pp**irilla for the reviews, and also to **rebfan90** and **GoldenDevil06** for the story follows and author alerts! You guys rock. Also, major props to all the users out there who are reading. As always, I welcome suggestions, feedback, and constructive criticism.

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**Chapter 4**

Aldric woke with a groan. He had slept heavily, with no dreams, as he usually did after shape-shifting. His head felt thick and slow. Rolling over, he realized he was in an unfamiliar bed.

Frozen, all of last night's memories came back to him in a rush. He remembered the sensations of fear, rage, blood-lust, and adrenaline. His beast growled silently in his head, feeling the memories as well. He ignored the wolf and pushed past the sensory rush.

He sat up, not bothering to make the bed. He dressed himself hastily only to find that his cuirass was missing. Then he remembered tearing it from his body in his hurry to shift.

He walked into the main room of the house. Rory was quietly stirring the cooking pot over the fire, and she turned to look at him.

"Did you rest well?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

Surveying the cottage, he was surprised to see that very little remained of last night's battle. The bodies of the vampires were gone, and most of the rubble had been cleared away. The door that hung in the frame looked brand-new. Only a few bloodstains marred the clean floor.

"I'm impressed."

Rory didn't look up from the fire this time. "With what?"

"First, that everything's been cleared. That couldn't have been easy. I'm also impressed with how you handled yourself last night. Both you, and Lilly." He watched her carefully.

She held herself stiffly. "That wasn't the first time we've had to fight for our lives," she answered at last.

So she was going to be stubborn about it. "That's obvious. Why, exactly, do you have to fight off vampire assassins regularly?"

"That's none of your business."

"I'm sorry, I was under the impression you were going to 'tell me everything' today," he reminded her.

A scowl knitted her brows together. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I defended both of you last night. I could have died. I deserve answers."

She slammed the ladle into the pot violently, spattering broth everywhere. "Don't play the white knight! You could have died regardless. If the elf bitch killed me, she would have finished you off before taking Lilly."

He ignored the barb. "So they're after your daughter?"

"She's my sister," Rory said. "And yes, they are after Lilly."

"The vampire said she was supposed to take both of you. Both of you are important to them, somehow," he observed.

She was silent.

He held back from showing his irritation. "I already know half of this story. You might as well tell me the rest."

Angrily, she snatched up an item from the table and threw it at him. "I fixed this for you. I'd appreciate it if you dressed."

He looked down to see that he was holding his cuirass. The buckles had been expertly repaired. The only flaw was the dark stain near the shoulder where the dagger had pierced his skin.

After he had put it on, he looked at her again. "I'm waiting."

"Then keep waiting!" she exploded, stalking away from him.

"Look, you already know a secret of mine. You know I'm a werewolf. I swear, I will keep yours."

"And how do I know that?" she demanded. "I'm supposed to tell this story to you, and then you leave? Why would I send a stranger off with the most important secret of my life? One that means the difference between life and death for my sister and I? Why would I tell you that?"

He looked at her seriously. "I promise that I will help you, in any way that I can. I can't leave here knowing that you and that little girl could die."

"Why would you do that for us?" she asked, her voice cracking just a little. Aldric wondered if she would cry.

He didn't know how to explain. "That's what I've been doing ever since I came to Skyrim. I help, however and wherever I can. I fight for those who can't, and I protect those who will."

Rory gave a mirthless laugh. "So you're some kind of hero?"

This conversation could come later. "Today, I am. Now tell me your story."

She clenched her jaw and stood up straighter. He knew what she was going to say before she said it. "I'm sorry. I can't. I know I told you that I would, but honestly, I don't know what came over me. I should never have brought you here, and I should never have let you come inside and stay. I should have left you in the woods when I met you."

"And if you had, you might have died last night," he said quietly.

"That's not for you to say," she argued. "I can handle myself. You haven't seen me at my best. I'm not able to fully let go when I have to keep one eye on Lilly."

"You really think you'll be able to stay here, after what happened tonight?" he asked, careful to keep an accusatory tone out of his voice. "They found you once. It'll happen again."

"I know that!" she yelled suddenly.

"I want him to stay." Lilly's voice drifted down from above.

Aldric turned to see her lying on her stomach, her head on her folded arms as she watched the argument play out below her. He didn't know how long she'd been there.

The tension didn't fade from Rory's face, but something changed in her eyes. "That's not up to you, Lilly."

"He doesn't want to hurt us," Lilly said.

"I know he doesn't!"

"Then why do you want him to go away?"

"Because, Lilly."

"Because why?" Lilly's tone took on a defiant air. "And don't say because you said so!"

Rory squeezed her eyes shut in irritation. "Lilly, you don't understand."

"No, you don't understand." Lilly rolled over to come to a sitting position. "I'm tired of being scared all the time. Aldric is strong, like mom. He can help."

"And you don't think I'm strong?" Rory demanded.

"You are, but you're so angry all the time. I worry about you being so angry that you'll mess up." Lilly's small, childlike voice was heartbreaking in its honesty. "And if you mess up, like dad did, then I'll be by myself. I'm not strong like you guys."

Rory let out a frustrated cry, and then turned around to give both of them her back. "I need to leave. I can't be here right now."

"Then go," Lilly said sadly. "Just go."

She went.

Aldric ended up sitting downstairs in the kitchen, watching Lilly eat her breakfast. The girl talked busily, with or without food in her mouth, and so quickly it seemed almost like it didn't matter if Aldric talked back or not. He wondered how long it had been just her and her sister, alone in the woods.

"What will you do when Rory comes back?" she asked him suddenly.

He focused on her, a little taken aback by the abrupt departure from talk of dresses, archery, spriggans, and her favorite food. "I don't know. What should I do?"

"Well," she said casually, a finger scratching at the table, "she'll probably still be mad at you. So maybe we should find something to do."

"What do you usually do at this time of the day?" he asked.

Lilly looked toward the door. "Well…I'm supposed to clean my bedroom and sweep the floors." She made a face.

He smiled. "That doesn't sound like much fun."

"It's not," she agreed. "But one time, I found a spider and I whacked it right at Rory's face with the broom! She screamed."

They shared a laugh. "I have an idea."

"What?"

"Why don't you walk to town with me," he suggested. "We could use a few things."

Lilly's eyes widened. "No. We shouldn't do that."

"Why not? It's a beautiful day. We could use some fresh air," he cajoled.

She shook her head. "Rory's not here. She would be really upset."

Aldric knew he was playing with fire, but he also got the sense that Lilly got almost no time outside. It would be just like Rory to be so afraid of Lilly getting snatched that she would inadvertently turn her into a prisoner.

He looked down at her. "We can leave a note for her. Falkreath is only about a mile away. We'll be there and back again before she even knows we've left."

Lilly hesitated. "I don't know."

"You'll like the town. It's pretty."

A few minutes later, after they'd left a note for Rory telling her where they'd gone, Aldric found himself on the road with Lilly. It truly was a beautiful day; the sun was shining brightly and the air was very clear after last night's storm.

He was more alert than he'd been in a long time, suddenly very aware of the things that could go wrong with Lilly there—things that he had stopped worrying about over time. He knew they'd have to pass several small bandit camps. There could be bears, or even a dragon.

Suddenly, taking Lilly out for a day didn't seem so fun after all.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed oblivious to potential danger, being a child. Aldric had thought she might be anxious and fearful on the trip, but she was loving it.

She playfully swiped at a butterfly as it flapped past her head. It danced barely out of her grip and turned back to flutter past her a second time, almost sternly, as if chastising her. When that happened, he felt it was somehow important to memorize the look on her face.

By the time they made it to the town, Aldric was more relaxed. He didn't think he'd ever had a more uneventful walk on Skyrim's roads. It was like Lilly's presence commanded the world around her to work in harmony.

He opened stopped at Gray Pine Goods first, to sell a gem and a necklace he'd brought with him. Solaf was agreeable enough, though he didn't talk to Lilly. The gruff man only watched her idly as she inched closer to the shelves behind him to gape at the items lined up.

After they left, he handed her a small bag.

"What's this?" she asked, surprised.

"If you open it, you'll find out."

She peered inside the sack and grinned when she found the taffy treat inside. "Candy!" she exulted, holding it above her head.

"One of the best things about town," he told her, smiling.

"Where are we going next?"

"I was thinking the blacksmith. His name is Lod, and he's a friend of mine."

Her eyes lit up. "Can he make me a dragonbone bow like yours?"

He had to laugh at her excitement. "Whoa, there. I don't know about that, but he might have something for you."

Aldric had never known Lod to have children, but he was surprisingly friendly to Lilly. Maybe it was the fact that Aldric regularly bought out many of Lod's supplies, but whatever the reason, he was pleased.

The smith even taught Lilly how to craft a leather helmet. He grinned, remembering that he'd done something similar quite a while ago when he first met the man. Lilly immediately donned the helmet she'd made and refused to take it off, running around the street in front of the smith's shop.

Aldric bought a few things from the man, spent a moment of his own at the forge, and then called to Lilly. She was swinging the taffy treat around like a whip, trying to charge the goat nibbling at a bush by the steps. The animal pointedly ignored her as it continued its meal.

"Is it time to go already?" she asked him breathlessly.

"It is. Sorry, kid." He jostled the helmet on her head.

She gave a half-shrug. "That's okay," she said easily. "We can come back sometime, right?"

"Maybe," he said. "But for now, we better get back so we can beat your sister there."

At the mention of Rory, her face tightened and her earlier carefree attitude vanished. "Oh. Right."

_Good job._ "Don't worry, Lilly. She won't be mad at you if she makes it back before we do. She'll be mad at me."

"I know, but I don't want her to be mad at you," she said quietly.

"I'm not sure if we can do anything about that." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "If your sister still wants me to leave, I can't make her change her mind. I might have to say goodbye to you."

She watched the guards walking around at the entrance to town. "I know."

He felt bad for bringing it up, but if Rory was still upset when he got home, he wasn't sure that he'd have the chance to talk to Lilly at all. He didn't want that. He'd grown fond of the girl.

Lilly quietly sucked on her taffy on the walk home. They had just reached the turnoff he normally took to get to Lakeview Manor when a loud roar broke the silence above him.

Aldric had Lilly down into a crouch and blending into the bushes near him in a split second. He pulled out his bow and crept around the large tree Lilly was hugging.

A steel-blue dragon circled in the air above him. Aldric watched, motionless, waiting for the next several seconds to decide what was going to happen.

He somehow knew that the dragon had spotted them, but it did not descend to attack. It flapped in a slow circle around them, its head pointed toward them the whole time. After a long, agonizing moment, it finally turned and headed toward the mountains, its calls fading into the distance.

"Is it gone?"

Aldric turned to find Lilly still crouched by the tree, her arms wrapped around it. "Yes, it's gone."

"Why was it watching you?"

"You saw that, did you?" He put his bow up.

She didn't look scared. "I think he was afraid of you."

He chuckled. "Why do you think that?"

"He didn't want to fight you."

"They don't want to fight all the time," he told her. "Even dragons have other things to do sometimes."

The rest of the trip was hurried. Aldric didn't want to tempt fate by lingering on the road anymore. Lilly seemed to get more and more subdued the closer they got to the house.

Immediately after opening the door, Lilly pattered across the floor to snatch up the note they had left. She turned and fed it to the warm coals in the hearth. After a moment, the paper began to smoke, and then it curled as a lick of flame enveloped it. She watched it until it was black ash.

"I'm tired. I'm going to take a nap," she said, not turning away from the fireplace.

He sensed she didn't want to talk about it. "Okay. I'll be down here."

"Thank you for taking me with you to town today, Aldric." She gave him a small smile. "This was the best day I ever had."

She raced up the stairs while he was still trying to think of something to say to that.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **

You guys rule. A special thank you to **draken666, KEEler21, Lewgor,** and **floridayankee** for the story reviews, favorites and/or follows!

Things are moving right along, so stay tuned if it seems a little slow. A certain redhead from a certain Guild will be making a cameo soon. That reminds me...the actor that voices Brynjolf will be making an appearance at my city's Comicon this summer (though for work unrelated to Skyrim). I wonder if I'd be the only Skyrim fan in the audience!

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**Chapter 5**

Rory stomped through the underbrush on her way back to the house, not caring if she made enough noise to bring a sabercat down on her head. She swiped at low-hanging tree branches and kicked at ferns in her way. A long, gnarled root snagged her foot and she went down.

At first, her anger flared brightly. But as she knelt on the ground, her fingers touching the cool earth, it slowly started to fade away. She began to think about her return to the house and what it would be like when she got there.

She was certain Aldric was still there. She didn't believe he would leave Lilly alone, although she was capable of staying by herself for short periods of time, and then there was the fact that he was so damn persistent.

Rory couldn't blame him, almost. He took a knife that was meant for either her or Lilly, and then helped her fight off three vampires and a gargoyle. It was a bloody, ugly, desperate fight. What a way to introduce a man to her life.

She hesitated at her own thought. _Was_ she trying to introduce him to her life?

Unsure, she climbed to her feet. It seemed, at this point, inevitable. There was a reason she had completely lost her head and brought him—a stranger—back to her home. The place she had been hiding for almost ten years.

Was the reason only that he was a good-looking man with a great smile? Show her one handsome man after all this time, and half her brain falls out?

It had to be more than that. Aldric had not only gotten her to let her guard down, he had obliterated it. Completely destroyed it. She had almost forgotten the problems in her life, sitting in that forest with him.

Like Lilly, he seemed to have a talent for putting people at ease. He had kind eyes and a strong, if quiet, presence. He almost radiated "good guy," like he was ready at any moment to kill the dragon, rescue the fairy princess, and save the kingdom.

That brought her back to something that had been niggling in her subconscious. The dragonbone bow he had showed Lilly. That wasn't something you could buy anywhere. Dragon's bones and scales were rarer and more precious than jewels.

So he must have made it. That meant he had killed at least one dragon. Should she be impressed? She knew the beasts weren't invincible. They had their weaknesses just like everyone else.

Something else occurred to her. He hadn't spoken at all of how he had gotten the bow. A weapon that rare, with the means of acquiring its materials…any warrior or adventurer worth their salt would have spared at least a moment or two for that story. It wouldn't be _bragging_, really, so much as sharing one incredible tale.

That meant either had hadn't killed any dragons and had somehow gotten his hands on the bow, or he had killed so many dragons that he didn't want to bring it up for fear of sounding like a liar.

Rory scoffed. She couldn't imagine one person, even someone as strong as Aldric, killing more than one dragon on purpose. If one happened to attack in the wild, that was one thing, but who on Nirn would purposely go after dragons?

Laughing at the thought, she turned in the right direction and headed home, her temper subsided.

She arrived less than an hour later. As she'd suspected, Aldric was still there. He knelt in front of the open door, an assortment of tools spread out on the ground next to him. He held a long, slim piece of metal in his mouth, frowning in concentration at the door.

"What are you doing?" she said, bypassing a greeting.

He didn't look up at her. With a grunt, he gave a last tap of his hammer at the handle. "Fixing the lock."

She frowned. "There's nothing wrong with that lock. That door is brand-new."

"You get this made in town?"

"Yes."

"Most smiths don't bother with putting good locks in unless you make a request," he observed, pushing to his feet. "I'm not sure Lod even knows how to make one more complex than this basic one." He smirked, nudging the guts of the former lock on the ground with his foot.

"What's so special about the lock you put in?" she asked.

He handed her a key that looked different from any of the others she'd owned. "It can't be opened without this key. Trust me."

She felt her temper wake, like stirring coals in the hearth that you'd thought had died. A rush of warmth and the suggestion of a fire that could be coming to life. "I don't know if you noticed, but those vampires last night didn't bother to try to pick the lock."

"That may be so, but not everyone trying to come inside will choose to blow the door off its hinges with a fireball," he pointed out. "You don't want to make it _easy_ for them."

"How do you know you can't pick the lock?"

He held out the piece of metal he'd been holding with his teeth. "Here's a pick. Have at it."

She took it, although she'd never done it before. "So you know how to pick locks."

He hesitated for only a fraction of a second, but she caught it. "I'm a man of many talents."

Rory stepped forward and knelt in front of the lock. Aldric handed her another small metal tool, its handle wrapped in leather strips worn smooth from touch. "This is the wrench you'll need."

She took it and inserted it first, then the pick. She had barely moved the wrench when the pick snapped and flew off into the brush. Brow raised, she turned to Aldric. "Have any more picks?"

He grinned. "I do, but that'll happen every time. You'd have to have a _very_ talented thief to be able to crack that lock."

She stood, brushing her knees off. "Where'd you buy the lock? You don't just carry things like that around, do you?"

"I made it," he answered, face neutral.

"I see." She handed him the wrench. "And how did you learn to do that?"

"Smithing is a hobby of mine."

Her eyes flicked to the bow on his back. "How did you learn so much about locks, and picking them?"

His face was even more careful this time. "I have some friends who know things. They taught me a bit."

Before she could answer, she heard the rapid thumping that indicated Lilly was barging down the stairs. The girl jumped the last three steps, landed gracefully, and then came racing to the door.

"You're back!" she exclaimed. She didn't look wary or anxious at all. In fact, she looked downright relaxed and happy.

Rory felt her brows drawing together the slightest bit. Lilly never acted this way when she came back from a trip. It had to be Aldric's presence. At the thought, she couldn't help but feel a little offended.

"What's that on your head?" she asked, trying to distract herself.

"Oh." Lilly's hands flew to the helmet. "Um…"

"It's a helmet," Aldric pointed out helpfully.

"Yes, I can see that," Rory said dryly. "Where did it come from?"

Lilly looked at Aldric first, and then her.

At the silence, Rory knew. "It came from town, didn't it."

Lilly's face crumpled in anxiety. "Yes, but—"

"You took her into town today, while I was gone."

Aldric didn't bother with lying. "Yes, I took her with me. I needed to get the lock, and I didn't want to leave her here."

Both the man and the little girl stood watching her, Aldric's face wary, and Lilly's face fretful.

Rory wasn't particularly upset about the fact that something could have happened to them—she knew that Aldric was more than capable of defending Lilly from a few stupid bandits or an animal. But her head was screaming at her that she didn't really _know_ him, that he had taken her, alone, away from the house today without her knowledge.

The other side of her mind was appraising him differently. Rory became aware that the part of her that was werewolf would find other ways to judge his character. He was a strong male who had proven himself in battle, and he smelled kind.

Appalled with herself, she turned abruptly and walked into the house. That had never happened before. Her inner beast had never made its thoughts known about a person unless she was in the midst of a fight.

There was a long, silent pause behind her, and then Lilly scampered back into the house.

"You're not mad?" she asked, her voice ringing with disbelief.

Aldric approached more slowly. She was willing to bet he could sense or smell her anger better than Lilly could. "Let's give your sister some room," he suggested. "Why don't you go outside and gather up the old lock for me."

Once Lilly was gone, she spoke, her hands locked onto the back of a chair. "I've spent all morning thinking about why I should trust you."

He waited patiently, quietly.

"There's something you're not telling me." She looked up at him finally. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, focused on her with a disarming intensity.

He laughed, but not like it was funny. "Frustrating, isn't it?"

She glared at him. "I have a damn good reason for holding back from you. What's yours?"

"I think we can work out a deal, here," he suggested. He folded his arms, and Rory ignored the pleasing way his muscles rippled.

"What, I tell you mine and you tell me yours?" she scoffed.

"Of a sort. It might be easier if I _show_ you." Brow cocked, he gave her a sly half-smile.

Clenching her fists, she fought against the blush creeping up her neck. "Don't tease me."

He rolled his eyes to the side, dropping his arms. "All right. No teasing. This really would be easier to show you. I promise it doesn't involve my naked body or close personal contact."

The blush didn't budge. _Damn him._ "Fine. You first, then."

Suddenly, a hint of trepidation crossed his features. "Ah…okay. We should do this outside, though. But first? Shake on it."

She stared at his outstretched hand. "Shake on what?"

He gave her a look. "Agree that after you see my reason that I can be trusted, my secret, that you'll tell me the rest of your dark, mysterious story."

Annoyed, she scowled. "I already told you I would."

"Shor's bones, Rory, just shake my hand!"

She grasped his hand, giving it a quick shake, and then his grip tightened on her. His hand was much larger than hers and completely enveloped hers. With a quick, sharp movement, he pulled her close to him.

Startled, she looked up at him. He wasn't much taller than her, but he seemed to loom over her in that moment. She must have subconsciously pulled away, because he tightened his grip on her and pulled her even closer. Mere inches separated their fronts now.

"Let go." This close, her wolf gave a soft growl, and it slipped up through her throat to color her words.

His eyes flickered with surprise, and he looked her up and down. "Promise me," he murmured, his voice husky.

"I did promise you." She was surprised and annoyed by the breathy quality her voice had taken on.

His hand slid up, slowly, to completely wrap around her wrist. He grabbed her other arm and did the same thing. Again, he pulled her closer. Only a hard thought separated them from touching.

He looked down at her, his eyes roaming all over her face. "You're lying."

His calloused hands were warm and rough on her arms. His grip was tight but not painful. At this closeness, his scent was almost overpowering. Distantly, she wondered why her temper hadn't surfaced.

"Let go," she commanded again, her mind swimming up through a haze of confusing thoughts and feelings.

Abruptly, he released her and took several steps back. The ghost of a smile showed on his face.

Though her wrists didn't hurt, she rubbed at them—her skin was still zinging with some kind of unfamiliar energy. Briefly, she wondered if it would feel that way if he were to put his hands on the rest of her body. She pressed her lips together, hard, and banished the thought.

"I thought you said there wouldn't be any close personal contact," she said stiffly, her chin raised.

He smirked. "I would've done that a lot sooner if I knew it would get you to cooperate that easily."

Still breathing a little too fast for comfort, she stomped past him and walked outside.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Hey, you crazies! Double-whammy upload tonight. Three reasons for that: this one's a bit short, the second one has action to make up for that, and it's Friday. (Using Friday as an excuse works for about anything, right?) Also, I'm just excited to share with you guys. You're an awesome audience.

As usual, much love to **timeywimeyspaceywacey**, **blaze01****k**, and **KK ****Jace **for the new reviews, favorites, and/or follows! I live to serve.

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**Chapter 6**

Aldric followed Rory outside, slowly. He took a deep breath, still feeling a little rattled.

The close encounter had initially been to throw her off and get her to let her damnable guard down again. He suspected—correctly, as it happened—that if he managed to get inside her comfort zones, her careful mask would slip.

What he didn't expect was that the effect was like a double-edged sword. It affected her, as intended, but it also affected him. Gods, how it had affected him.

The second he had touched her, his fingertips zapped, not unlike the few times he'd attempted to cast a shock spell. Then he had felt a heat spreading through his hand. His beast had risen, but not consciously—enough to send instincts and instructions through his mind.

They were clear enough for him to grasp the basic idea. Being naked and rolling around with her was the main thought. Her scent was interesting and exciting; he wanted to pull it around him like a cloak, to rub his face along her neck and breasts and between her legs.

Her eyes, normally so defiant and heated, had been wide and almost clouded over, like he'd dosed her with some kind of potion. As he pulled her closer, she tilted her head up to keep him in her sight, and her lips were right there for the taking. He considered it briefly, if it was worth how angry she'd surely be if he were to steal a kiss.

And then, just when he'd felt like he was losing the fight and that his finely-wrought control was about to snap, he pulled back. He let go of her, forced himself to move away. Too much, too soon.

He shook his head, visualizing the overwhelming feeling as water that could be shaken off. His hair swung with the effort and helped to dispel some of her lingering fragrance.

Then he steeled himself. This was the hard part, the part that could end badly if he wasn't careful.

He finally walked outside to where she was waiting. She stood in the shade of a massive tree, her arms folded close to herself. Her mouth was thinned into a tight line. She'd sent Lilly inside after he had exited the house, clearly suspicious of what he was going to do.

"Well?" she demanded. Her voice shook the slightest amount.

He ignored the attitude she had taken. The tremor in her voice and her tone suggested she was just as overcome as he was. He felt as if he should apologize, but sensed she wouldn't like it if he were to suggest she wanted him the same way he wanted her.

He had decided he was going to simply use a Shout. Any kind of explaining he tried would end up with Rory wanting proof, anyway, so he figured he would circumvent the arguing and get right to it.

Then he ran over the list of Shouts in his head. He needed something impressive without being violent. Calling a storm would certainly be impressive, but it was also, unfortunately, under the category of being violent.

Showing her the force of his Thu'um would also work, but not unless he actually had something to send tumbling away like a doll.

In the end, he decided on the Shout that lent his voice the fiery breath of a dragon. He faced a small grouping of bushes that were planted a bit away from the house, out in the open. Being green, they'd smoke nicely but were unlikely to catch.

"Are you ready?" he asked her.

Her face was still locked down. "For what? What are you doing?"

"Please don't be frightened," he cautioned. Then he turned to the bushes, gathered a deep breath, and braced his feet. "YOL!"

The loud partial Shout sent a rolling gout of flame toward the plants, singeing them with a crackling sound. The flame dispelled almost immediately after making contact with the shrub. Besides part of the plant being blackened, only a few flickering branches and leaves sported an open flame. They slowly extinguished themselves after a moment as Rory stared at him.

The moment stretched on and on. The thin smoke that rose from the bush was the only movement in the area. He held her gaze tolerantly, trying to radiate peacefulness. Aldric was used to people reacting unpredictably to Shouts. Not all of them were positive, and some could be difficult to handle.

"What…was that?" she asked finally. Her voice was low and careful.

"That was a Shout," he told her. He touched the Amulet of Talos around his neck. "Do you know what that is?"

"Of course I know what that is," she snapped. She uncrossed her arms and paced to the side. "Only Ulfric Stormcloak, the Greybeards, and the Dragonborn can do that."

"That's right," he answered calmly.

Her eyes were focused so sharply on him that he started to feel wary. It wasn't too unlike the stare predators gave while they were considering attack.

"So what are you trying to tell me?" She was still using that low, deadly voice.

"That I'm the Dragonborn."

She sneered. "How do I know that's not something you were trained to do by the Greybeards?"

"Actually, that is something they helped me with, but I had this ability before I visited them."

"Because you're the Dragonborn."

"…yes."

She shook her head, and Aldric was starting to realize that this was going badly. "I can't believe this."

"I can Shout again, if you'd like."

"No," she said quickly, looking at the burned bush. "No."

"Do you have anything you want to ask me?"

She was silent for another long moment. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Actually, I have one request. There's one way you can prove that you're who you say you are." She stopped her pacing and stared at him. "They say the Dragonborn can absorb the soul of a dragon."

He stood still. "You want to watch me kill a dragon?"

She gestured with her hand as if to say, _Well._

Aldric looked away. "Rory, you don't understand…if you had met me a year ago, I might have taken you to the nearest dragon lair and showed you. You actually live quite close to one, which is another thing I wanted to talk to you about. But things have changed. If I'm attacked, I won't hesitate to defend myself, but the days of purposely going out and seeking a dragon to kill are over for me."

She shook her head and looked down, an unpleasant expression on her face. "Of course they are." She gave a low, disgusted laugh.

"I realize that might sound like a lie to you. If you would open up to me, share your story with me, I would tell you mine," he offered. "There are a lot of things about my life as dovahkiin that you don't understand right now. If you gave me time, I could—"

"No." She cut him off. Her face had changed, somehow. The way she looked at him was like she had never seen him before. "I'm no longer interested in sharing anything with you. In fact, I'm no longer interested in talking to you at all."

His heart sank. This was what he'd been fearing since the vampire attack. "Rory—"

"_Stop_," she snarled, her hand out, "saying my name. Leave, just leave."

"What about Lilly?"

"What about her? She'll be sad about you for a few days. Eventually she'll forget who you are."

"I wanted to say goodbye to her, if I could. She's a sweet girl." He looked toward the cottage.

"No, Aldric. You've affected us enough as it is. She doesn't need more of it. Please, just go."

She turned around and gave him her back. A lot of things ran through Aldric's mind. He wanted to say many things, but he couldn't. He was confused and unsure of what he was thinking.

He began to walk away, and made it a few feet, and then he turned around again. "I'm sorry for making things worse for you. I can tell something is very wrong here, and I know that you don't need a strange man confusing you right now. Even if you don't believe me, I've shared with you what I am, twice. My offer to help you still stands. If you change your mind, or if there's another attack, come find me."

He walked down the hill part way, past the house, and turned one last time. She was facing him now, watching him go. Her face was impossible to read.

"Oh, and one last thing," he called, bittersweet teasing in his tone. "I know you feel the same way about me that I feel about you. There's something about you, Rory. You may be stubborn as a goat, but it's the first time I've ever wanted to kiss a goat!"

He'd raised his voice loud enough at the end so that he echoed off the mountains behind the house. He was close enough to both hear Lilly's shocked and delighted gasp from inside, and see that Rory's face was the color of a tomato.

He made his way down the path toward the road. Though he was still troubled with how things had turned out, he couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of satisfaction.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

A month had passed since Aldric's departure. Lilly had been insufferable for the first week or so. The crying had stopped more or less on the first day, but the quiet sullenness and dirty looks hadn't died down yet.

Rory hadn't talked with her about it. There was nothing to say. She knew that somehow Lilly had forged some kind of connection with him, and she suspected that she viewed Aldric as a stand-in for their father.

What did that say about Lilly that she had attached herself so tightly to someone who was around for not even two days? Was Lilly starved for human contact? Or was it Aldric's inexplicable ability to make everyone around him feel safe?

She crouched outside near the small waterfall, rinsing her hands in the cool, clear water. A few days past, a fox had killed the two chickens she had kept for Lilly. Rory didn't care much about them; they were too old to produce eggs anymore. But Lilly had been heartbroken—though all of her emotions had been much more intense ever since the incident.

So she'd spent the better part of the day building a stronger coop for two new chickens. Lilly was sitting inside the coop now, holding the chicken she had named Junie on her lap. Junie's sister, Ginny, poked nosily around the back of the house near the woodpile.

She caught a snippet of Lilly's voice, carried on a breeze. She pulled her hands out of the water and drifted closer, trying to hear what she was saying.

Lilly was talking to the chicken. Her small hands smoothed through the young hen's downy feathers. "You would've liked him, Junie. He was real nice."

Rory turned and stalked away, gritting her teeth. She kicked at the woodpile, sending logs scattering everywhere. Behind her, Lilly's voice cut off abruptly and she heard the door to the coop closing.

_Perfect. Just perfect. _

She pressed her hands to her forehead. Rory would never admit it to anyone, but she missed Aldric's presence as well. It felt much safer with another person at her back, fighting with her. Aldric was a powerful werewolf and had proven himself to be a fierce fighter.

Something inside her missed him as well. Her wolf had liked him, and ever since he had left, the spirit seemed restless and agitated. She wordlessly berated it, trying to make it understand that they were alone again.

Late that night, they ate supper—silently. Again. Lilly picked out and ate the pieces of venison and carrot in the stew, but pushed the other vegetables around with her spoon.

"Eat all of it," Rory insisted. "It's good for you."

Lilly glared at her balefully. "So?"

"So, if it's good for you, you should do it."

Pushing her bowl away suddenly, Lilly dropped her spoon on the table. "Why? You don't always do things that are good for you."

Rory looked up from her food at her, her voice a warning. "Don't start."

"Why can't I talk about it? I'm not allowed to do _anything_!" Lilly's voice was as angry as Rory had ever heard it. Normally gentle and even-tempered, Lilly shoved away from the dinner table and stood in front of her. "I want to talk about it!"

"There's nothing to talk about!" Rory snapped. "It's over."

"It's not over!" Lilly insisted breathlessly. "I heard what he said. He said he would still help us."

Rory pushed her own food away. "Lilly, if it were that easy, if I could just let someone help, then believe me, I would do it."

"But it is that easy," Lilly cried. "I know that your heart hurts ever since dad left. I know that you're supposed to take care of me. And I know that you're just as scared as I am, all the time!"

"Lilly—"

"No!" she interrupted. "_You_ listen to _me_ now! I'm tired of being afraid all the time. I'm tired of being alone. I don't have any friends. I went to town once and it was _fun_ and I want to do it again!"

Instead of being angry, Rory was fighting a lump in her throat. "I hear you, Lilly, please believe me. I want those things for you, too."

"Don't _you_ want anything?" Lilly begged. "Don't you want anything for yourself? Don't you want to get married and have babies? Don't you want to not be stuck in the house all the time, being scared?"

"Of course I do."

"Then we need to fight!"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Rory told her, trying to calm her. "Even if our parents were here with us today, we couldn't do it. They're too powerful, there's too many of them. I don't even know where to start."

"But Aldric might! He's the _Dragonborn_, Rory. He could—"

Rory shook her head and looked down. "I don't want to talk about that, please."

"Why don't you believe him? He Shouted for you!"

"That's something that can be taught, Lilly. That doesn't prove anything. What if he's a liar?" she proposed. "What if he's claiming he's the Dragonborn but he's not? Do you know how dangerous that would make him?"

"You don't believe that," Lilly said confidently, crossing her small arms. "You can feel it, just like me. He's a hero and he can save us."

Rory sighed, frustrated. Lilly could be so mature at times—sometimes she even startled her with the truth of her words. And yet, other times she acted exactly her age.

A distant sound brought her out of her thoughts. "Did you hear that?"

Lilly rolled her eyes. "I didn't hear anything. Don't try to distract me!"

Rory hushed Lilly and stood. There it was again. The sound was louder, and accompanied by a very slight vibration in the ground.

Standing completely still, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sounds outside the house. This time, she didn't have to strain.

The house shook violently, the source of the movement coming from above. The roof over their bedrooms cracked and partially caved in with ear-splitting noise. Lilly let out a small yelp of fear and crouched instinctively, her arms flung over her head.

"Is it them, are they back?" she shrieked, sheer panic on her face.

Before Rory could think to do anything, a deafening roar filled the house, shaking the air around them. The sleeves of Rory's armor vibrated with the sound. It stopped, and Rory lurched toward Lilly, her ears ringing.

"Dragon!" she yelled over the tinny whistling in her ears. The roof creaked and groaned again, more wood splitting as another section gave.

Rory's blood froze in her veins. The dragon had to be perched on top of the house.

"Don't move!" she commanded Lilly.

Terrified, the child cowered on the floor. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back! Don't move!"

She raced up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. When she came to the top, she hesitated a moment; her bedroom had taken the worst damage. Half the space was covered in rubble and flaming wood. The bed was lost to view, the chest at the foot only partially uncovered.

Covering her face from the smoke, she pushed and kicked at the debris over the chest. Ripping it open, she had time to wrap her hand around the bow before the roof screamed in protest over her head.

She scrambled backward, narrowly avoiding the massive piece of lumber that fell away from the roof and over the spot she had just been. She coughed, dust and smoke wreathing her body.

Hazily, she realized she had been able to retrieve the bow and the quiver of arrows that had been beneath it. She clutched them to her chest tightly and started to push her way to her feet. The fire was starting to spread.

The house shook again as the dragon shifted. Rory felt a second of air whooshing in the wake of some massive movement, and then she froze in place, kneeling on the ground. She looked up through the broken, jagged hole in the roof.

The dragon's head was directly outside. It was turned to the side, and its enormous, yellow eye was looking directly at her. It was close enough for Rory to see the blade-like pupil, narrowed to a slit, and the whorls and threads of color inside the dragon's eye.

It considered her for a long moment, and then it turned—far more quickly than a creature of its size should be able to do—and scrabbled at the hole in the roof with a clawed wing.

There was a mighty sound of air whistling again, and Rory realized immediately that it was inhaling. She rolled to the side of the bed, into a narrow corner that remained untouched by debris, seconds before the dragon roared again.

A column of fire, white-hot and scorching, blew through the roof, aimed at where she had been. Desperately, Rory covered her face, trying to shield herself from the superheated air. She sucked in a breath that seared down her throat, feeling like it was cooking her lungs.

The stream of fire ended as quickly as it had begun. The floor and surrounding wood rubble blazed, leaving her trapped in the corner. The dragon moved around again, and the roof groaned ominously.

Her brain screamed at her that she had seconds before the roof collapsed on top of her. It was either go forward, through the fire, or be crushed.

Rory tightened her hold on the bow and covered her face with her other arm. She gathered her legs and half-jumped, half-ran through the fire toward the doorway she knew was on the other side.

She descended the stairs, slapping at her elbow where her sleeve had caught fire. Lilly was nowhere to be seen.

"Lilly!" she shouted, looking around frantically. Smoke had begun to fill the air and she squinted. "Lilly!"

A sound to her left alerted her. Lilly was crouched under the long table in the kitchen, curled into a tiny ball. She whimpered louder, and Rory ran to her.

She jerked her roughly out from underneath the table. Lilly cried out, but she ignored her. She shook her, forcing her to look at her face. "Look at me!"

Lilly lifted her head and met her eyes. Tear tracks marked her sooty face but her gaze was steady for the moment.

"It's on the roof," Rory told her, her voice hoarse already. "It saw me, it knows we're in here. I'm going to open the door, and then you run. Don't stop running, you hear me?"

Lilly's eyes were huge. "Where should I go?"

"Run toward town. When you get close, start yelling. The guards outside will come running. Tell them there's a dragon attacking here, that it breathes fire. They'll take care of you," she instructed.

Lilly nodded. "What about you?"

"I'm going to stay here and distract it." Rory gripped the bow. "I'm going to give it something more interesting than a little girl running away."

A huge tear rolled out of Lilly's eye and raced down her cheek, carving a new runnel in the dirt on her face. "Okay."

"Are you ready?"

At her nod, Rory ran to the door, Lilly right behind her. She threw it opened and shoved Lilly outside. "Run!"

Lilly darted outside, but ten feet from the door she stopped in her tracks. "Junie and Ginny!" she howled, looking to her left.

"_No_!" Rory reached out to stop her, but Lilly was too quick.

She skidded into the coop, throwing the door open. The chickens squawked in alarm as Lilly gathered them up, one under each arm. She dashed back out of the coop and began to run, awkwardly.

The roof creaked again. The dragon had seen her movement. Rory's body pulsed with terror as she saw the shadow of the beast on the ground, backed by the moonlight. She threw herself out the door, racing to where Lilly had stood.

"Hey!" she screamed. "Over here! _LOOK AT ME_, you big bastard!"

The dragon turned its gaze toward her distractedly. It cocked its head as if trying to figure out what she was saying.

"That's right, you monster!" she growled. "You don't want her, you want _me_! I'll give you a fight!"

Her arms shaking, she drew an arrow and lined up her shot, moving backward rapidly. She released the bowstring and the arrow buried itself with an audible _thunk_ in the creature's side.

That earned her a thunderous roar of pain. With a mighty lunge, it pushed off the roof and gave a heavy flap of its wings. It gained lift in the air slowly, almost painfully slow, and once it pushed completely off the house, the entire upper floor of the structure collapsed.

Rory cried out, shielding herself as she stumbled back. Shattered beams and chunks of stone rained down around her. She righted herself frantically, readying another arrow as she searched for the dragon.

It wheeled high in the air overhead, trying to climb over the tree line. She loosed her arrow and yelled in defiance as it struck its target. The dragon called out and flapped away from the house, only to turn and tuck its wings in a dive at her.

More fire coursed from its mouth, spraying across the ruined house and then eating a path in the dirt toward her. Eyes huge, she threw herself to the side and landed in a bone-jarring roll, narrowly missing the flames.

Moving quicker than she ever had in her life, she aimed another arrow at the dragon's passing form and once again made a hit. The beast lunged in the air, gaining altitude, and sinuously rolled its huge body to turn again.

Her fourth arrow pierced its wing. Tearing through the soft membrane like a knife into a loaf of bread, the arrow passed through, leaving a bleeding puncture wound behind. Hovering in the air, the dragon directed its rage into another breath of fire.

Rory was ready for it, and was already running. The flames chased after her, following her path along the ground as she made for a stand of trees near the house. She cried out in pain as she felt scorching heat wash over her right leg.

She shot at the creature again. This time, her arrow met its mark directly in the soft underside of the dragon. The gout of fire cut off abruptly as the dragon flinched.

Hovering in the air, its wings stirring the fire and smoke around the both of them, it stared at her. Panting, with sweat coursing down her face and into her eyes, she held still. Her next arrow was aimed at its head.

It opened its jaws wide, but nothing except a loud, long shriek came from its throat. The dragon heaved its body through the air, visibly struggling to get higher, and flew away from her.

She followed it with her bow, but it soared off above the trees. It began to disappear in the distance, going west away from her and Falkreath. Unbelievably, it had given up on her.

Rory collapsed onto the ground, giving one short laugh. Her hand unclenched from around the bow and she fell backward onto the baked earth. She laughed again, incredulous, until her leg throbbed when she moved it.

She sat up to examine the injury, her head still light and delirious. The leather of her armor had torn and partially melted. She could see puckered, reddened skin peering at her through the tear. Her fingers gingerly touched it, and she swallowed a whimper.

Breathing heavily despite her sore throat, she flopped onto her back again, squeezing her eyes shut. Her mind felt fuzzy, like it was stuffed with cotton. She must have breathed too much of the smoke.

Something buzzed in the back of her mind, insistent and annoying. She groaned aloud, swiping her hand in the air above her like she was brushing an insect away from her face. The feeling persisted until a thought swam groggily to the surface of her brain: _Lilly_.

Her eyes snapped open and she rolled unevenly to a sitting position. At the motion, her stomach roiled and she leaned to the side, heaving. Nothing came out. She forced herself to stand and then staggered to the path that connected to the main road.

_She must have made it to Falkreath by now_, she thought dimly. The closer she got to town, however, no guards made their presence known.

She frowned. Surely they would have dispatched at least a few of them to the house.

The road dipped downhill suddenly, and she was within view of Falkreath. Two guards were standing on either side of the entrance, peacefully looking out into the night. There was no commotion beyond them in the town proper.

Her heart thudded irregularly. Lilly hadn't made it to the town.

Rory turned and flat-out ran back the way she had come. She passed beneath the empty wooden bridge of the bandit lookout. The night was silent, only the sounds of a few buzzing torchbugs dancing nearby.

She could feel her pulse in her eyes, it was hammering so hard. She opened her mouth to call for Lilly, and then stopped short. A small, dark object lay on the side of the road past a small, abandoned house.

Kneeling, she picked it up. Lilly's shoe! It was pointed north, along the rock wall and past the small pond. She trotted forward, scanning the area. Just past the pond, she found the shoe's partner, resting in the dirt.

Looking up, she realized she stood in front of the huge manor house she had seen a time or two from the road below. Two lights flickered serenely on either side of the front door. A cow grazed in a pen to the left, and a prosperous garden was planted on the other side of the house.

Lilly had to be here, inside. But who lived here, in this house that was as large as the Jarl's quarters in Falkreath? Who had saved her sister?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Thank you to **Fenrisulfr**, **Count Bathory**, **hc91**, **reapersocks**, **ARavingLooony**, **Fireskateslol**, and **TZW** for the reviews, favorites, and/or follows! You guys made my weekend. I love seeing that people are interested in the story I'm crafting.

A couple of notes: in case you guys are getting a little antsy, Rory's big secret is coming fast. Also, the location of Rory's and Lilly's house is based off a real (unmarked on the world map) location in Skyrim. There is a structure at the location. I think I've given enough clues about the general location for you to be able to find it! I'd love to see your guesses posted in a review.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

Rory crept forward toward the house. She definitely picked up Lilly's scent the closer she got. After a second of debating whether or not she should push her way inside, she decided for a civil knock on the door.

Nothing happened.

She waited a moment and then used the side of her fist to bang on the door hard enough to rattle it on its frame.

That got a reaction. Heavy footfalls sounded inside the house, getting closer by the second, until the door swung wide open.

A tall Redguard woman stood in the entryway, a light purple headscarf wrapped around her head, concealing her hair from view. She straightened her slim shoulders and looked down at Rory. "And who might you be?"

"The little girl inside belongs to me," she answered, trying her damnedest to keep the aggression to a minimum.

The woman's face softened a degree or two. "I see. He'll want you to come inside, then." She moved aside and gestured for Rory to enter.

"No," she shook her head. "I'll just take the girl and go. Thank you, really." Meeting the 'he' that so imperiously commanded her presence sounded like her idea of a bad time.

"You'll want to see this." Lilly's singsong voice floated out from inside the house. By the sound of her, there was not a hint of the earlier fear and dread they'd been experiencing.

Frowning hard, Rory pushed past the woman and followed her ears to where she'd heard the familiar voice. The entryway she walked through was decorated with heads of various preserved predators, she noted absently—how pompous. Her eye did catch several of the deadlier-looking weapons stored on racks beneath the heads, though.

Lilly was perched at a long dining table that rested before a well-fed fire and a massive elk's head. Her two chickens sat on the table next to her, clucking quietly in a way that suggested they weren't quite over the rude insult of being snatched up in the middle of the night and terrorized by a large flying lizard.

The little girl's face lit up at the sight of her. "You're okay!" she exclaimed. She pushed back from the table and ran around to slam into her, wrapping her arms around her in a fierce hug. "We were so worried."

"Who's 'we'?" Rory demanded.

There was a clatter behind her as the front doors to the manor opened and closed. Rory turned, still holding Lilly to her, to see Aldric appear.

He was shirtless and barefoot, only wearing a pair of leather trousers. He held his dragonbone bow in one hand and he smelled of smoke.

"There you are!" he said, winded.

"_You_?" she demanded. She gave an accusing look at Lilly before turning back to him. "You live here?"

"Of course I do," he answered, looking bemused. "Are you hurt?"

She ignored him. "How did you know to come here?" she asked Lilly.

Small hands clutched at her. "Aldric told me he lived here. It's closer than town."

Rory couldn't argue with that. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Did you see my shoes? I put them there for you in case you ran past," she said brightly, looking pleased with herself.

She smoothed Lilly's hair back on her head. "Yes, I saw them. What happened when you got here?"

"Rayya let me in," Lilly explained, gesturing to the Redguard woman. "Then she woke up Aldric. He grabbed his bow and ran out of the house just like that, so fast."

The man in question padded across the floor and laid his bow on the table, followed by a quiver of unfamiliar arrows. The firelight did wonders to highlight the light sheen of sweat on his bare chest.

The attractive Rayya followed him and picked up his bow and arrows, taking them into a room beyond the kitchen with a murmured word to Aldric. Only a moment had passed after her departure, and another woman descended the staircase. She was half-dressed in armor, carrying the heavy steel chest piece in her arms. She looked sleepy and confused.

Aldric followed her gaze and turned to the woman on the stairs. "Don't worry, Lydia, everything is all right now. Go back to bed."

The corner of her mouth pulled up in a half-smile as she nodded to him and turned to go back up the stairs. She had noticed Rory but made no effort to greet her.

A small voice in Rory's head whispered, _Just how many women does he _have_ in here?_

Aldric seemed to have picked up on what she was thinking. "That was Lydia. She was my housecarl for my home in Whiterun, but I brought her here with me. Rayya was granted to me as housecarl by the Jarl of Falkreath when I built this home."

She swayed just slightly on her feet, and he was at her side the next time she blinked. She doubted he moved that fast; perhaps she was in shock.

"Please, sit down," he asked her, his voice low next to her ear. He guided her to a chair at the table. "Tell me what happened. Lilly was very upset when she got here and only told me a 'fire dragon' was attacking your home."

She shrugged a shoulder. "Not much else to say." Then she cleared her throat. "I need water." She hesitated. "Please."

He grabbed a pitcher on the table and filled a cup for her. She took it and drained it, and almost whimpered at the relief the cool water gave her abused throat. Some of it dribbled out of her mouth to run down her neck.

"Easy," he murmured, taking the cup from her.

"It landed on the roof during supper," she remembered. "It was late. The house started to burn, and I ran upstairs for my bow. It saw me and sent more fire through the hole in the roof. I went downstairs and got Lilly and told her to run when I opened the door."

"She told me to run to _town_," Lilly corrected, smiling at Aldric. "But I came here instead. I knew you could save us."

"I think your sister did a damn good job of that by herself," he observed, looking at Rory. "I didn't see it when I was there. Did you kill it?"

"No. It stopped fighting me and flew off, to the west."

He smiled gently. "He must not have expected his dinner to put up such a fight."

"What of the house?" She ignored his attempts at praising her.

His face became serious. "The second floor had collapsed and what was left was on fire when I got there. I'm sorry."

Lilly looked sad, but comforted herself with, "At least I saved Junie and Ginny!"

Ginny gave a grateful squawk.

Rory shoved her chair back and stood. As soon as she put weight on her right leg, it buckled, and she stumbled, about to fall.

Strong arms caught her. She found herself pressed to Aldric's chest, and she pushed back a bit, resisting. He pretended not to notice and hooked his arm under her legs. In one even motion, he settled her into his arms and lifted her.

"Don't carry me like a baby," she hissed.

His mouth was a hard line. "I'm carrying you like a person too injured to walk. Your leg was burned?"

"It was just for a second." She stretched to get a glimpse of her leg and bit back a gasp. The flesh she could see looked much worse. It was almost black in places. She'd forgotten that burns tended to get worse over time.

He carried her into a spacious bedroom on the other side of the main hall. Lilly helpfully held open the door as he set her down on a plush bed. Rory suddenly felt very grimy and dirty as she sank into the clean sheets.

"Lilly, can you fetch me the satchel next to the alchemy station?" Aldric asked.

She was off running in the other room almost before he had finished his request. She came back only a few seconds later, holding the leather bag out to him. Rayya drifted in on her heels, holding a bowl of water and several sheets of cloth. She set the bowl down next to Aldric on the floor and handed him a pair of shears.

"What are those for?" Rory gestured to the shears, unable to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

"I'm going to have to cut the leg off your armor, here." He pointed to a spot just above her knee.

"Oh." She didn't argue with him. The leather around the burn was destroyed beyond repair. In fact, the rest of her armor was as well. The elbow on her left sleeve was burned, and the rest of it was scratched or torn in places. It all reeked of smoke.

He slipped her boot off, and then placed the shears at the hem of her trousers. He snipped up in a straight line to her knee, carefully, and then made a horizontal cut on either side. The ruined leather fell to the bed and Rayya picked it up.

Aldric held her leg with one hand wrapped around her ankle and the other beneath her knee. As he examined the wound, she was mortified to realize his touch under her knee was tickling her.

She squirmed, and his grasp on her ankle tightened. He looked up at her sternly. "Don't move."

Strangely, she was perfectly willing to follow directions this time. She knew she could treat her own injuries, but she was exhausted and still dealing with adrenaline from the battle. So she gave up and lay on her back. The bed really was very comfortable.

She felt a movement under her head, and opened her eyes to see Lilly pushing a pillow beneath her, smiling encouragingly. Rory patted her arm in thanks, but then gasped sharply at a sudden twinge of pain in her leg.

"It's good that you felt that," Aldric observed.

"Don't do that again."

Rayya gathered Lilly to her by the shoulders and guided her out of the room, talking in a low voice to her. Perhaps she didn't want the girl to see more of the wound than she had to. Rory half-laughed at the irony.

"Something funny?" Aldric raised a brow at her as he wrung out a wet cloth from the bowl.

"No," she whispered. Then she violently bit her lip as she felt a rush of pressure in her eyes. Tears? What was happening to her?

He gently cleaned her leg with the cloth, dipping it in the bowl twice more. The water was cool and soothing, but the wound began to sting sharply once it was cleaned. Aldric patted it dry and then opened the satchel.

"What is that?" she asked him, eyeing the small tin he pulled out.

"It's a salve for burns." He held it out to her. "Fortunately, it makes the skin numb as it heals."

She sniffed at it, and then pulled away. The sharp smell of herbs wasn't unpleasant, but it stung her nostrils. "Where did you get this?"

He took it back from her. "I made it."

"So you make weapons and locks, and you're competent at alchemy."

"Well," he said, looking up at her, "you can tell me how competent at it I am in a few moments once I've applied this."

He picked up what looked like a small dinner knife, and began to spread the salve over the burn. At first the wound tingled, but then Rory sighed as it began to lose feeling. The numbness was unpleasant in its own way but it was far preferable to the pain.

"Is it working?" Aldric asked.

"Yes. Thank you."

He stretched a length of linen from a roll next to him and snugly wound it around her leg several times. "There. I think we're done. Just make sure not to move around too much. Tomorrow, we'll take the bandage off and change it." He hesitated.

"What is it?"

"Your trousers will need to be cut the rest of the way up the leg before you can take them off. I can get Rayya…"

She shook her head. "Just do it."

He picked up the shears again and started to cut a line along her thigh. When he reached her hip where the seams and leather were too thick, he put the tool down and grabbed either side of the material. The muscles in his forearms bunched and he grunted once as he ripped the pants open. Her body bounced.

Unfortunately, her smallclothes didn't hold up well to the strength of his hands. She lay still, exposed up to her waist on one side, certain that her ass was partially visible.

Aldric averted his gaze, turning to leave. "I'll send Lilly in with some clothes for you."

When he was gone, Rory kicked off her other boot and wriggled out of her one remaining pant leg. Lilly pranced in with an armful of fabric and stopped short.

"Why are you naked?" she asked.

"My pants were ruined. Are those for me?"

Lilly held out the clothes. "These are so pretty. And they're brand-new! Where do you think they're from?"

She shook out the selections Lilly had brought. _Oh, you cannot be serious_, she groaned inwardly.

In her hands was a long, fitted white nightgown, made of silk and lace. It drew in tightly around the waist and was made to dip just a little down between her breasts. The wisp of fabric was far too delicate and feminine for her frame of mind right now.

She ignored the nightgown and held up the matching robe. It too was made of white silk, but it was plain and unadorned. On it went. She tied it tightly around her waist, noting that it fell only to her knees.

Rory looked at Lilly. "Tell me there were real clothes where you got this from."

"Dresses!" she answered with a sly grin.

Rayya walked in behind Lilly. "Do you require anything else, ma'am?"

"Ah, no," Rory said awkwardly. "In the morning, though, I'll need to dress…"

"I'm here to take your measurements." The housecarl held up a lined strip of fabric.

She clutched the robe tighter to her. "For what?"

The taller woman smiled. "I wasn't informed."

The house had been destroyed, along with all of her possessions inside of it. She had an amount of money stashed away nearby, but it wouldn't be nearly enough to furnish her and Lilly with the clothing and weapons they needed. She didn't have a thing to her name at the moment besides her bow.

Being completely dependent on Aldric's generosity was directly at odds with her outlook on life. It placed her in the dangerous position of being in someone's debt, something her father had always warned her about.

Stiffly, she nodded. "All right."

Rayya stepped forward and quickly measured her body with light, deft movements, apologizing when her hands dipped between Rory's legs to measure her inseam.

After the housecarl had left, Lilly crawled up on the bed, yawning. "Let's go to sleep, Rory. We're really, really safe here. You can argue some more with Aldric in the morning."

She doubted she could sleep at all, but she sank down on the bed next to Lilly, pulling the covers up to her shoulders. "Okay, but I'm not sharing my pillow with the chickens."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Many thanks to those who continue to favorite and follow the story! Your reviews are so, so appreciated. I just recently figured out how to reply to them! I'm so tired right now (midnight my time) but I had to upload this. Middle of the week and all! Hopefully I can be a nice little distraction. Tomorrow, Chapter 10 comes, and Friday, I'll be uploading Chapter 11 which is one intense mofo.

(You may notice that this chapter is rather, er, detailed. One thing I love about Skyrim is exactly that, the attention to detail. Aldric is an accomplished smith and I believe his narrative would reflect that.)

* * *

**Chapter 9**

An hour or two after leaving Rory in the bedroom with Lilly, Aldric emerged from the cellar, looking forward to finding some of the leftover meal Rayya had put together. Tired, thirsty, and sore, he closed the trapdoor behind him, intending to head to the kitchen.

There was a soft noise in the room at the north end of the house, the trophy room. He turned his head—the doors were closed, the way they'd been before he made the trip downstairs.

Silently, he pulled one of the doors open to find a luminous figure lurking in the corner of the room. He blinked hard and refocused his tired eyes, for a split second thinking he was looking at a spirit.

It was Rory. Wrapped in a white robe, she paced from one figurine to the next, getting as close as possible without touching any of them. She spent a long time at the display of the draugr.

"He's supposed to be a Deathlord," Aldric said casually, once he had crept up close behind her.

She jumped with a stifled gasp and immediately whirled around to face him. Her long hair brushed his chest. "You ass! How dare you sneak up on me!"

He grinned. "I'm surprised I managed to."

Eyes narrowed, she turned around again. "I was interested in this one. I've never seen anything like this before."

"You've never been in an old burial crypt?" he asked, coming to stand next to her.

She rolled her eyes. "You ask that like everyone adventures their way across Skyrim."

"Hmm. My mistake. You seemed like the kind of person who wasn't afraid to leave their house." He looked back up at the draugr, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Her head turned sharply in his direction. "I am not _afraid_ to leave my house," she snapped.

"Whatever you say."

She seemed to realize he was teasing her, because after a moment of silent fuming, her shoulders lost their tension and she crossed her arms. "I have heard of draugr, though."

"Books?"

"My father told me some stories."

"Oh."

A moment of no conversation passed as Rory continued to look at the statue. "I have to admit, I don't think I would have showed you this part of the house if you hadn't found it yourself," he told her.

She looked up at him. "Why?"

He grimaced and turned away. "I built this wing a year or so ago right after I finished the main hall. Now it just seems…arrogant. I've lost the need to brag about all the things I've seen and done."

Rory considered his words, looking around at the figures. There were others besides the draugr, including a spriggan, a Dwemer sphere, and a silently roaring frost troll. "It _is_ impressive," she admitted.

He shook his head. "Like a little boy showing off all of his toys."

She watched him for a moment like she was deciding something about him. He resisted the urge to fidget.

"You know," she said suddenly, "the more I see of this house, the more I believe you are who you say you are."

His brows shot up. "So that's all it took? Wealth?"

A faint blush stained her cheeks. "Sort of. This is the kind of place I imagined the Dragonborn living in. I imagined a room exactly like this one, with all the enemies he would have defeated. You're either a very rich adventurer, or you _are_…" She trailed off, looking away.

"I can show you the armory, if you'd like. What's in there is much more interesting than in here," he offered.

She followed him out of the trophy room. When he opened the doors to the armory, she drifted inside and immediately crossed the room to the mannequin that displayed his dragonscale armor.

"Is this made of what I think it's made of?" she asked, her voice quietly excited. She stretched a hand out as if to touch the material, but then pulled it back.

"It's made of the scales of dragons. You can touch it, go ahead."

Her fingers stroked over the points and edges. "This is incredible."

"Thank you."

She looked to the side at a weapon rack. "This sword…is it made of the same material as your bow? Dragonbone?"

He nodded. "You have a good eye."

She straightened. "Where do you make these things? You'd have a crowd watching you, mouths gaping like fish, if you did this in a town or city."

"I'll show you." He smiled in anticipation. "It's this way."

Once he had climbed off the ladder in the cellar to join her, Aldric couldn't help but feel proud. Her mouth had dropped open a little as she surveyed the rooms. The cellar was his favorite place in the house.

His joy in sharing it with her pulled back a little as he watched her settle her gaze on the mannequin near the doorway. It wore his Nightingale armor. The Nightingales were no longer much of a secret in the Guild, but it was his responsibility to protect their existence from becoming common knowledge amongst the rest of Skyrim—thus the display in the basement, hidden away from everyone besides him.

"What _is_ this?" she murmured, awe plain in her voice. She reached out and stroked both of the arms.

He felt as if he were seeing it through her eyes, for the first time. The black leather was finely crafted and etched with decorative patterns and layers wrapped over and upon each other. When worn, the material seemed to flow over the wearer like the night sky itself—dark and somehow otherworldly.

The centerpiece of the cuirass was the Nightingale symbol. Two gold divots fastened the edges of the cloak that draped over the back like smooth water to end at the knees. The hood was snug over the head and framed the molded leather piece that completely hid the wearer's face from view.

The fingers from the second knuckle down were the only part of the body that would remain visible. After all, a Nightingale and a thief would need the sensitive pads of the fingers for lock-picking.

Rory's gaze was intense and still locked on the armor, devouring it with her eyes from boot to hood.

He still hadn't come up with an answer to her question. "I'm…not sure what I'm supposed to say."

She tore her eyes away to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"You weren't supposed to see this. It's a bit of a secret. But let's just say that for now, it's a story for another day." He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping she would accept that.

She gave the Nightingale mannequin a last glance, and then walked through the doorway to the connecting room. "You weren't jesting about smithing, were you?"

He followed her. The room held a full smithing suite, complete with a smelter, a forge, a tanning rack, a grindstone and an armorer's workbench. Chests held every kind of supply he might need. "No, I wasn't jesting. I do take it seriously."

"You've made most of your weapons, haven't you?" Rory touched a glass greatsword hanging on another display rack.

"Yes."

"Why did you ask your housecarl to take my measurements?" She turned and looked him in the eye.

Taken aback, he fumbled for a moment. "If you'll accept, I can make you new armor and weapons to replace what you've lost. You'll need it today."

"Not that I'm turning you down, but why will I need it today?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Because today we're going to hunt down that dragon."

She went very still. "You're offering to kill a dragon with me?"

"I know I told you that I wouldn't do that," he acknowledged. "The dragon that attacked you has proven itself dangerous. I won't ask you again. Do you want to find it?"

"Yes," she answered immediately.

He looked down at her leg. "We have to wait until you heal."

Kneeling on the floor, she pulled at the bandage before Aldric could protest. When the linens fell away, they revealed smooth skin that was pink with newness. The rippled and blistered burn was completely gone.

Rory looked up at him, half-smiling at the look on his face. "To answer your question, your alchemical skills are exceptional. But my body has ways of its own."

"You smelled like wolf when you were injured," he remembered. "But you don't smell like one now."

"After this dragon is dead, I will tell you what you need to know." She held up a hand when Aldric opened his mouth. "And I know that I've already promised that before and gone back on my word. I won't this time. You even have my permission to talk to Lilly if you'd like, she knows."

He thought for a moment. "You have a deal. But we're not quite ready yet."

* * *

Less than an hour later, they were on the road outside Pinewatch. The armor that Aldric had crafted for Rory was similar to the set that had been destroyed during her fight with the dragon. She wore it now, and he was pleased to see that the pieces looked perfect for her, even without any fittings.

The armor it replaced—the same set she had been wearing when he had first met her in the woods—had always struck him as being familiar in some way, though he was certain he had never seen anything like it for sale. When he had been preparing materials to craft it in the cellar, the thought had suddenly hit him.

The elbows and knees were fortified with hard pads (for kneeling on hard floors and for crawling in tight spaces to hide), the fit of the armor was snug to the body (to reduce sound of movement and the size of the silhouette), and the leather was black (to help one blend into the shadows)—all similarities to a set he already owned, which was tailored to a thief's job requirements.

He had pulled out the set he had received when he had officially become the leader of the Thieves Guild. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it sooner. The only obvious difference was the absence of the band of leather that sported many small pockets and pouches that could hold things like lockpicks, or the septims and jewels from a quick heist.

He had made a mental note to ask her about her previous set and where she'd gotten it. If she hadn't made it, he would have placed a hefty coin purse on the bet that another smith had intentionally modeled it after what the Guildmaster and the senior members of the Guild wore.

Aldric wondered if that information would be useful to Brynjolf, Delvin and Vex—the Guild wasn't impervious to spies, but it should be impossible for someone to get _that_ up close and personal with the sets of armor that he and the three of them wore. To his knowledge, there was only one set that wasn't in their possession, and Mercer's body still made its grave in Irkngthand.

Rory tugged surreptitiously at the legs as they left Lakeview. She had praised the fit, but he knew that it would take a while to soften and mold to her body to be truly comfortable.

He handed her the last pieces of the armor: the gloves. The left glove kept all five fingers bare, the same way the Guildmaster set and her own had done, but he'd made an improvement to her right glove.

She slipped the left one on and then frowned at the right one. "What's this for?"

Aldric had her don it. The thumb, index and middle finger were cased in tough but flexible leather. "For archery."

Rory wiggled her fingers. "I have the feeling this will come in very handy," she said, holding her borrowed bow.

She'd been interested in the selection of more powerful bows he'd had, daedric and dragonbone, but had settled on an unused ebony bow he had stored away. The new string was likely to cut or blister her fingers without protection.

He watched her place the weapon on her back along with the full quiver of ebony arrows. When she met his eyes, he gave her a nod.

"_Now_ we're ready."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **I love my cliffhangers, don't I? In Chapter 11 and 12, a lot of backstory will be revealed.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

They stood over the shell of Rory and Lilly's house. The fire had long since burned itself out, but the wreckage of the building still glowed and smoldered in places. Smoke hung in the air like it would never dissipate.

Aldric stood back respectfully and let Rory approach the house alone. She stood still for a long time, just looking, and then began trying to nudge rubble aside. She had pushed halfway into the kitchen before she gave up.

"Nothing to save here," she murmured. "It's strange, though. I see things here and there like this." She bent and picked up a cast iron cooking pot that had almost no marks of damage. "I feel like I can't leave it here."

"We can come back," he suggested.

She gave a last, long look and dropped the pot. Flakes of ash and embers swirled where it fell. "No. Not today."

They moved on from the ruined house. Aldric lead the way up the side of the hill, eventually finding a path. They climbed for a moment, ending at the mouth of a cave.

"What's this?" Rory asked. "A tunnel?"

"Of sorts," Aldric agreed. "It's a small cave system named Bonechill Passage. The exit leads to where the dragon has made its home."

"You've been there before?"

He hesitated. "Once."

She caught the hitch in his tone and looked at him. "Why?"

Aldric paused again, and decided to tell her. Perhaps being forthright with the truth would encourage her to do the same. "I traveled here with the Blades. There were three of them. They helped me kill the dragon that lived here."

Mentioning the Blades didn't seem to mean anything to her. "If you killed it, then how is there another one?"

"When the guardian of places like Ancient's Ascent have died, other dragons will often take over," he explained. "They're drawn to it."

"A guardian," she repeated. "The dragon that you killed was guarding something?"

He nodded.

"What would a dragon want to guard?"

"There are structures in most dragon lairs. They're called 'Word Walls'. They can be found in some other places, though, like dungeons or—"

Rory looked faintly amused. "Old burial crypts?"

Sheepish, he shrugged. "Sometimes."

"So the dragon you killed was guarding a Word Wall. What's written on the Wall?"

He cocked a brow at her. "You're not afraid, are you? Are you trying to distract me with a conversation?"

Her eyes narrowed. Without saying anything, she charged forward into the cave. Grinning, he followed.

The smile was wiped from his face as he soon realized that Rory was as natural to navigating the rocky, steep and close terrain of the cave as any wild goat would be. She slipped nimbly through the narrow passage to the cave's interior and he grunted as his foot slid awkwardly off a rock. He had to suck in air to be able to squeeze through the two close-pressing rock walls into the cave.

Rory was waiting for him, looking smug. "Been a while since you've been prancing around in caves?"

"As a matter of fact, it has," he growled. "Now lower your voice. There are things living in this cave."

She dropped into a bit of a crouch, losing the teasing look on her face. Nearby she noticed a partially frozen skeleton. Readying her bow, she watched him expectantly.

"Well?" he gestured toward her.

"I'm waiting for you," she told him, the tone in her voice suggesting it was obvious.

"I've already been through here. We're going to kill your dragon up there," he reminded her. "Lead on."

"_My_ dragon?" she hissed. "You're not going to help me at all?"

"If you need it, I will. I—" he broke off abruptly as a noise alerted him.

There was a shivering hissing sound approaching from deeper in the cave. An ice wraith rounded the corner, searching for the source of their voices. He made for his sword, but as he took a step forward toward the creature, an ebony arrow pierced the wraith. With a screech, it exploded into ice splinters and then collapsed onto the ground.

He turned to Rory. She was lowering her bow from the shot and caught his surprised look. "What?"

"I…nothing," he said haltingly. "That was actually quite a good shot."

"Better than the one I brought down the bull with?" she reminded him wryly.

He had actually forgotten about the first time they'd met, and her expert shot from an elevated distance. "Better, yes. Ice wraiths can be difficult opponents because of how quick and erratic they are."

She sank back into her crouch, looking unimpressed. "Let's keep going. What else is in here?"

He gave her a slow smile. "Just the frost troll."

* * *

Rory had been just as unfazed by the troll as she had been with the wraith. The ebony dagger that was strapped to her leg had been hurled into the back of its head with such force that the troll's body had jolted forward, bounced off the ice wall, and fallen heavily to the floor beneath the natural bridge. She had actually looked a tiny bit embarrassed, and he'd had to reconsider her strength.

Now they stood at the foot of the worn stone steps that led up a path to where the dragon lived. Not far from their feet, Aldric glimpsed puddles and splashes of a dark substance.

"This is definitely the same dragon you injured," he observed. There was much more blood than he'd anticipated.

Rory seemed surprised at the amount as well. "So they do bleed, after all."

As they ascended the steps, it became apparent that the dragon was not going to prove challenging today. It wasn't perched on top of the Word Wall; instead, it crouched on the earth in front of it, wings curled tight to its body.

Its sides heaved, laboring to draw each breath. The great creature's lungs made a massive rumbling sound with each inhale and exhale. Its hide was still peppered with ebony arrows, some broken off mid-shaft.

Rory approached the dragon, bow drawn. It stirred once it had heard the noise they made. The dragon simply rolled and shifted its weight to its left side so that it could see them. Its long neck was stretched out on the ground before it; it did not have the strength to lift its head.

It seemed to Aldric that the mountaintop had suddenly grown very quiet. Even the wind seemed to halt its harsh sighing as Rory and the dragon watched each other. It never blinked its great golden eye. Flurries of snow danced with each heavy exhale the dragon made.

Moving swiftly, Rory raised the bow and drew the string back. There was only a second or two of hesitation before she released it. The arrow punctured the dragon's skull, right beneath one of its horns.

The dragon shuddered and died.

Rory turned to face Aldric. He was shocked to see her eyes were glassy with emotion. "Why didn't you tell me it would be like that?" she demanded angrily.

He regarded her calmly. "Like what?"

"That…that creature _knew_," she spat. "It looked in my eyes and it _knew_ who I was. It knew I was going to kill it, and it wanted me to."

"He was hurting, Rory."

"I don't…" she trailed off as she looked at him. "What's happening?"

The dragon's body was beginning to disintegrate. Patches of its leathery hide peeled away and danced into the air, flaring brightly before dissolving into nothingness. More and more of its body began to burn with the same otherworldly fire. Its eyes were the last to catch, filling brightly with the glowing light.

Like a great bonfire, the element surrounding the dragon suddenly roared to life. Tendrils of light flashed, racing toward his body in currents. Blinding ribbons of white, lavender, pink and palest blue and orange and fire-gold came to him, rushed eagerly to him, with the sound of violent wind. They touched his body, melted through his chest and gently curled around the back of him.

The brilliant colors began to slow, leaving behind soft whispers in the morning air as they faded. The fire that did not burn gently diminished, leaving behind the colossal skeleton of the dragon.

Rory's voice was barely audible as she asked a question.

He opened his eyes to see her standing further away than she had been. "That was the dragon's soul."

"Does that hurt?"

"It doesn't cause me pain, but it doesn't feel pleasant, either," he told her. "It's…overwhelming. My body feels…" He struggled to explain it in terms she could understand. "It feels as if I'm holding too much of something inside of me. It used to make me lightheaded."

The bow lay forgotten on the ground next to her. She approached the skeleton slowly, a hand stretched out ahead of her as if she thought it might disappear before she got to it.

"This is how you got the bones, and the scales," she stated.

"Yes."

"I see, now." She stroked the delicate bones of a wing, her voice taking on an almost dreamy quality. "It would be very easy, like this."

Aldric watched as she inspected the bones. She circled around and around the skeleton like her eyes would never see enough. "This is the most amazing thing I've ever seen."

"It never stops being impressive," he agreed, his eyes tracing the spinal column.

Through the ribcage, she glimpsed the curved structure the dragon had been laying before. "Is that the Word Wall?"

She walked toward it, and he followed. Her hands traced the jagged carvings pressed into the stone as she knelt to get closer. "Is this the dragon language? It looks almost as if claws did this…"

"Yes, that's their language."

She looked up at him. "What does it say?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I can understand some of it when it's spoken, but I have yet to learn what the written words mean."

"Would you ever learn?"

"I might," he said. "One day."

Rory stood and straightened her back, like she was bracing herself. "All right." She breathed deeply. "I have decided that I believe you."

Quietly amused, he adopted her serious tone. "Thank you. I'm not sure what else I could have done to convince you after that."

She blushed delicately. "I know that I'm not…an enjoyable person to be around. I push too much. I expect too much."

On the contrary, he was finding that he wanted to be around her. Often. "We can talk now. I can tell you some of my story, and then you can tell me yours."

Her brows rose. "Only some of it?"

"Well," he amended, "it's a very long story. If you stay around long enough, you might hear the whole thing one day."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:**Your reviews, follows, and favorites are so important to me. I like knowing if readers are into my work! Thank you so much to those who have done so. And to you lurkers: I love you too! :)

Spoiler Alert: Main Questline. This chapter is dialogue-heavy. It was amazing and very interesting to get this far inside a character's head; I wanted to show things from Aldric's perspective as Dragonborn that showed how events in the main questline affected him emotionally. I became interested in doing something like this when I visited a Skyrim message board in which many others were talking about their frustration involving Paarthurnax and the Blades, and I realized I wasn't by far the only one who felt this way! I'd love to hear your opinions in the reviews.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Rory picked a large, flat rock near the mountaintop's edge and settled herself upon it. Aldric sat next to her.

"I won't start at the beginning," he told her. "That time was…it's too much to talk about. I don't like remembering Helgen or what it was like to be wandering through Skyrim feeling lost."

"I don't mind, as long as you're a good storyteller." She gave him a slight smile.

"I'll try."

He took a moment or two to gather his thoughts.

"After I met with the Greybeards for the first time, I knew. I believed them. I didn't push against what they said. I had fought the dragon Mirmulnir and absorbed his soul; when they gifted me with a small portion of their knowledge, it was not unlike that time, though it was gentler.

I left the mountain that day with more energy and hope than I'd had in a long time. I cannot stress enough how powerful I felt at that moment. So when I eventually met Delphine—"

"Who's Delphine?" she interrupted, her face guarded.

"At the time, she was one of the last two remaining members of the Blades," he replied patiently. "I mentioned them earlier and you didn't seem to recognize the name."

"Should I have?"

"Not everyone does. I'll tell you their history, though, because it all relates to my past and why I am the way I am today.

Thousands of years ago, they not only protected their kings but they hunted down dragons. They were very great warriors. After a time, they pledged themselves to become the personal guard of each Emperor of Tamriel. In the Third Era, after Martin Septim died, they ended that role and withdrew to Cyrodiil, waiting for someone like me to return.

They played a part in the Great War. The Thalmor made it their mission to destroy the Blades, and sent dozens of severed heads to the Emperor's palace in the Imperial City. Part of the White-Gold Concordat was that the Blades be officially disbanded. That gave the Thalmor law-sanctioned permission to hunt and kill every Blade they could find, just the same way the Blades had once done to the dragons.

Delphine knew that the Greybeards would find me and send me to retrieve one of their relics, as an initiation of sorts. She met with me and informed me of the crisis in Skyrim, how dragons were being resurrected. I traveled with her to a small town outside of Windhelm, and together we watched Alduin resurrect a soldier of his, Salohknir. I killed Salohknir as Alduin flew away into the distance. Delphine was much like you—she would only believe me once the soul came to me."

"And once you met her, you became a Blade?" she guessed.

"Eventually, yes," he said. "I tracked down the second and last member of the Blades, an old historian named Esbern. We traveled to an ancient temple that the Blades had previously used as a stronghold. They set up there and intended to revive the order, with my help. I gave it readily. For months, I searched Skyrim and brought to her three recruits that I thought would be most beneficial to them.

I believed in the Blades, but in particular I believed in Delphine. She helped me, gave me invaluable advice and tools, and she gave me a clear purpose that the Greybeards did not, at the time.

She guided me toward what she called my destiny. She told me that the Blades remembered what others had forgotten in the thousands of years that had passed—that it was my duty, my future, to hunt and kill dragons. That it was what I had been born for. Slaying Alduin was not something the Greybeards disagreed with, but they were hesitant to push me toward that with the same zeal that Delphine did.

I believed her. I believed that dragons were a danger, something tremendously powerful and truly evil. I had seen firsthand what they could do to small villages, whole cities, and good, simple people."

"Like what they did to Lilly and I," Rory suggested, her face tight. "Like how the dragon tried to kill the both of us."

"Yes," he said. "Like that."

"And you don't feel that way now?" she persisted. "How could _you_, of all people, change?"

He summoned more patience in the face of her growing anger. "Please listen. I told you the history of the Blades and what they are now, and their part in my life and my story, so that you could understand what I'm about to tell you."

That seemed to pacify her, sort of. "All right. I promise I will try to understand. I want to hear more."

"I fought relentlessly to continue on my mission of destroying Alduin. I barely slept, I hardly ate. Eventually, I found myself back at High Hrothgar to speak to the Greybeards again. I had begun to view them as old, feeble-minded men who had forgotten what the world below their mountaintop was really like. They disdained violence, and they viewed the power of the Voice as being something that could only bring them closer to true illumination, ultimate knowledge.

This was the exact opposite of the man I was then. My Thu'um was not the way to ultimate knowledge, it was the ultimate weapon. Violence was how I lived my life and how I was pushing my way closer to my destiny.

I needed to learn a Shout that would help me defeat Alduin. The master of the Greybeards, Arngeir, told me that only their true leader, Paarthurnax, could give me that knowledge. He directed me to travel to the very tip of the mountain, further up even than High Hrothgar.

I had thought that Arngeir was the true leader of the Greybeards and that there was no other. Paarthurnax had never been mentioned to me. I was not eager to meet yet another monk that would instruct me in the ways of meditating on 'Kynareth's gift.'

I made my way to the peak of the mountain, using new words that the Greybeards had given me; their last, they told me. I finally came to the end of the path, and it was then that I met Paarthurnax."

Aldric watched Rory, enjoying telling the story to her. He felt like he could almost relive the emotions and experiences just by the looks on her face as he recounted them to her.

"What happened in the next hour would tear me apart. I ascended the mountain so sure of myself, so confident in what I believed and what I had been told, and I came back down a broken man."

She looked at him sharply. "What happened up there?"

"Paarthurnax was not a man, not the monk I had been expecting. He was a dragon, a very old dragon. He had been waiting on the top of that mountain for thousands of years, waiting for Alduin…waiting for his brother."

"Alduin's _brother_ was leading the Greybeards?" Rory said, shocked.

"He was. He told me that once Alduin grew convinced of his supremacy and claimed himself a god, he knew that his brother was gone, swept away on the currents of his own power. Paarthurnax, along with other dragons that fled from Alduin, taught men how to use the Thu'um.

And here you might be able to grasp the exact moment my world shifted. It was the first time I had ever considered that dragons, like men, could choose. That they could see what path they were on, and alter it. The way Delphine had said it, there could be no other end for creatures like dragons _but_ evil, absolute evil.

My mind reeled when I left Paarthurnax. Everything I knew no longer seemed right to me. I had no doubt that Alduin needed to be defeated, but besides that…I was very angry with Delphine. Then I realized she had no way of knowing what I now knew, and I became very angry with myself for freely putting so much of my faith in the concise, black-and-white opinion of someone like Delphine.

With aid from Paarthurnax, I pushed on and in time traveled to Dragonsreach with the intention of capturing a dragon that could take me to where Alduin was hiding. The palace, once a source of comfort and familiarity, now sickened me. The giant skull of Numinex, the dragon of legend that had been captured there, seemed to fill my entire vision as I walked in.

I recalled how Paarthurnax had shared the story of his visits to Numinex, and how the dragon was so utterly broken by his years of captivity that he could no longer remember his own name. Today you have known how humbling, how sad it can be to see a creature like a dragon—so strong and full of life—simply give up in the end."

Rory was silent for a long moment, looking out over the forests far below them as she contemplated his words. "I looked into its eyes when it was attacking me, trying to break through my roof to kill me. I saw intelligence not much different than a sabercat trying to bring down prey. Today…there were many things in its eyes that I don't think I will ever understand, even if I live to be a thousand years old."

Aldric nodded. "There are dragons that are more animal than the others, but many of them may well be more intelligent than you or me."

She closed her eyes. "I sense you're building to something important here."

"I am."

"Please continue, then."

He looked out over the land the way she had. This high, the trees were barely visible. They were almost higher than the clouds. "The dragon that answered my challenge at Dragonsreach agreed to take me to Skuldafn, a temple hidden away high in the Velothi Mountains."

He paused, thinking. "Skuldafn was…difficult for me. Odahviing had told me that all of what remained of Alduin's forces waited for me there. He was not untruthful. The place was riddled with Deathlords, the same creatures you saw in my trophy room. They are formidable, much more so than the average draugr, and especially if there are many at the same time. Every skill I had learned, every weapon, every moment I had put into crafting and improving my armor—it was all put to the test that day.

By the time I defeated the last challenge Skuldafn held for me—a powerful dragon priest guarding a portal to Sovngarde—I was tired. I was angry, and hurt, and tired. But Sovngarde…it changed all that. It was unlike anything I have, or likely ever will, experience."

By the look on her face, Rory had not anticipated this part of the story. "So it was true what they said about Alduin—that he could eat the souls of the dead. And you followed him to the afterlife. And here you are, still."

"Yes, I came back, alive," he said in response to her unspoken question. "Maybe someday I'll tell you of Sovngarde and how I defeated Alduin, but for now…that's a story for another day. Instead, I'll tell you of what happened when I returned.

"After Sovngarde, I felt that I could not be more different than the man I had been before I met Paarthurnax. I had seen souls that I'd known in life, done things that nearly finished me. At the time, it hardly seemed like anything was real.

Shaken, I returned to the temple where Delphine, Esbern, and the rest of the new Blades lived. I walked to the balcony outside and heard Esbern tell Delphine of a vivid dream he'd had about Alduin. It gave me a small sense of pride and accomplishment to place my hand on his shoulder, to turn him to me and tell him what I had finally done."

He took a deep breath, surprised to realize that he still felt anger at the next memory.

"Delphine seemed impressed only for a moment, and likely at the fact that I had returned whole. Then, she acted as if I had merely fulfilled a duty I'd been assigned—which, in her mind, that's exactly what it was.

I did not require a grand celebration or any kind of treasures, riches or titles given to me. I didn't want any of that. But I did wish that someone could look me in the eye, really _look_ at me, and recognize that what I had done had both destroyed me and rebuilt me.

And then I wanted a moment of clarity between that person and I—a perfect understanding that if I never did anything else for the rest of my life, or if I died the next day, that I did at least one truly good thing in my life.

The closest I ever got to that was with Paarthurnax after I returned from Sovngarde. As I was realizing that, Delphine ordered me to travel to High Hrothgar and kill him."

Rory sat as still as the rock she was perched on. Her face was blank, unreadable, as she took in what he'd said. "What was her reasoning?"

"On the surface, it was sound. In the heart of Alduin's rule, his brother was his right hand, his second-in-command. Paarthurnax both oversaw and allowed the enslavement of humans and the rule of dragons.

But as Arngeir told me, during that time there was no other way he could be. It was as if Paarthurnax had believed exactly what I had believed—that dragons were this way and that there could be no other way for them.

Paarthurnax had committed many great crimes. I was not disagreeing about that with Delphine. But he had committed himself, isolated himself, to that mountaintop and turned his life over to working with the Greybeards. He told me that it was the only way to keep his natural desire for power and destruction at bay, the desire that all dragons have.

And I felt shame at those words. I remembered all too clearly the exhilaration I'd felt in my strength and power when I'd left High Hrothgar for the first time. Dominating through sheer brutality and the use of my Thu'um was…it was to feel untouchable.

Paarthurnax once said to me, 'What is better? To be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?' And I thought back on those words when Delphine commanded me to murder him."

"What did you do?" Rory asked, her voice a whisper.

"I turned around and walked away from her. I have not been back to the temple since that day. I came back to Falkreath and purchased land, and I began building my home.

One day, after a year had passed, I decided it was time for me to finally leave the hold. I traveled to Whiterun to visit a few friends. On the way back to my home, a large elk caught my eye and I noticed its rack of antlers. As I drew the string of my bow back, another arrow beat mine. And then I saw you."

She turned her head away from him. For a long time, she didn't move or say anything. Then she reached out to where his arm rested on his knee and gently took his hand in hers.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **It's on like Donkey Kong! :P

* * *

**Chapter 12**

After Aldric had told his story, Rory insisted that they go back to the house. For one thing, he seemed drained after the tale—and rightly so. For another thing, Lilly would surely be awake right now. Aldric had assured her with the utmost confidence that Rayya and Lydia would give their life to protect Lilly if he asked it of them, but she still wanted to return.

Her mind was still having trouble processing the things he had told her. He had been a very good storyteller after all, and it was something she would be thinking about probably for years. She got the impression that not many people had heard the Dragonborn talk that candidly about his experiences.

As they navigated their way back through the cave, Aldric looked sidelong at her. "You can ask me questions, if you want."

The way his eyes peeked through his hair as he tilted his head at her like that was charming. "All right. Let me think of some."

What she was really thinking about was how stupid she now felt. After all of the things he'd said, with the honest, aching way he'd said them—her reluctance to share her secrets with him seemed childish.

Childish, and petty. There was no doubt in her mind now that Aldric could, and would, help her. The way he had phrased the last part of his story…

"Have you become like the Greybeards? Have you sworn off violence?" she asked him after a moment, half-teasing.

There was a pause before he answered, and she was taken aback. _Had_ he really sworn off violence?

"No," he answered at last. "Not in the way you think. I will kill—dragons, men, mer—if it has proven itself willing to attack and kill innocent people, or to defend myself. But gone are the days where I killed for sport, or because someone was in my way."

"A fair answer," she decided. She'd never thought Aldric to be a cold, unfeeling murderer, anyway. "Were you…"

"Yes?"

She looked away, feeling heat creep up her neck. "Never mind."

"What is it?" he persisted curiously.

"Was Delphine your lover?"

He stopped walking suddenly, his mouth open a little. "What?"

"I don't know," she said hurriedly, walking faster. "Just forget it."

He jogged to catch up with her, his boots crackling the ice. Out of the corner of his eye, she noticed he wore a huge grin on his face. "Why would you think that?"

"It was stupid," she muttered.

"Of course it was, but…to think of it, Delphine and I…no. There was no way I would have _ever_…" he broke off and finally chuckled.

Her ears burned as she began to wriggle through the narrow cave's entrance. They were quiet again as they found the path that lead back past her ruined home and to the main road.

"What will you do now?" she asked once they reached the cobblestone road.

"I think I'll find something to eat and then head back to the cellar to work on a few things," he answered, stretching.

"I meant, what will you do now that you've decided to rejoin the world."

"Oh," he said, but she suspected he'd known what she meant. "I've been meaning to head back to Blackreach for a long time now. That was one of the most interesting places I've ever been." He smiled at some memory.

"What's Blackreach?"

"It's an underground cave that's connected to many dwarven ruins. But to say that it's merely an 'underground cave' is like saying that Lake Ilinalta is a pond."

"That big?"

"And full of glowing mushrooms taller than the tallest tree in this forest," he told her, his face beginning to light up. "It's dark as night inside, but lit up by all the glowing fungi and rocks. And the _water_—"

She looked over at his sudden stop. "What's wrong?"

"I was just thinking that instead of describing it to you, I could just take you with me." He ran a hand through his hair, glancing uncertainly at her.

Her brows shot up. "Why on earth would you want to take me into a giant underground cave?"

"You don't want to see it?" he asked.

"Of course I do. But why would we go there?"

He grinned, white teeth flashing. "To explore it, of course."

She shook her head. "You really are an adventurer at heart."

* * *

Rory was amazed to find that Lilly was still asleep when they returned to the manor house. Rayya informed her that she had woken not long after the two of them had left, but that after a glass of warm milk with honey, she had gone back to bed.

Aldric waved the woman off good-naturedly when she offered to prepare food for them. Instead, he took over. He cooked salmon over a grate in the fire, and served it to Rory with baked potatoes and leeks.

She turned down his offer of mead, and chose to drink water. They ate in silence. Rory was still absorbed in the things he had told her, and Aldric was likely thinking over what he had said as well.

When they were done, she told him she was going to read until Lilly woke up. He directed her to a large bookcase up the stairs and then left for the cellar.

She realized she hadn't been upstairs yet. The second floor was much smaller than the first. A mannequin, an enchanting table, and display cases occupied the area over the dining table.

More bedrooms, of a sort, took up the other half of the level. There was a wall dividing the space into two areas; on the left were two beds and a dresser. This was where Rayya and Lydia slept, she assumed.

A large bed dominated the right side. _Aldric's bed_, she thought. The covers were untouched from how they had been left when he woke, one half flung over the rest of the mattress.

Muddy boots were lined up against the wall across from the bed. Seeing as how the rest of the house was very clean, Rory wondered if Aldric forbade Rayya and Lydia from picking up his personal quarters. She didn't know why, but she thought better of a man who did not expect the two housecarls to chase after him like he was a messy child.

She also noted that it was odd, for such an opulent house, to have his personal sleeping quarters so…impersonal. Only a wall separated him from the two women, and less than that from the rest of the second floor. Aldric had close to no privacy.

Rory moved on to the bookshelf. It was crammed full, the shelves loaded with book after book of all different sizes, materials, and lengths. She gave a low gasp of pleased surprise when she saw it.

She quickly realized she could not take a dozen books with her at one time, so she forced herself to pick one. _Herbane's Bestiary: Automatons_ was a title that caught her eye. She pulled it from the shelf and sat down on the floor to read.

Ten minutes later, she stood and shoved the book back where she had found it, eyes wide. "_Never_ going to Blackreach," she muttered.

She read quietly for a while until she heard Lilly's voice from downstairs. When she found her, she was perched at the dining table, Rayya presenting her with a plump, fresh sweetroll.

"Well, well," Rory said, arms folded. "Someone's getting used to this."

Lilly grinned at her, the entire lower half of her face covered in white icing. "Want some?" She held out the pastry.

"I already ate, but thanks very much." Rory pulled out the chair opposite her.

"Where did you go?" Lilly asked.

There would be no use in lying to her. "Aldric and I went to find the dragon."

Lilly chewed, unfazed. "Did you kill it?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Another bite. "Where was it?"

"As it turns out," Rory sighed, "it lived in the mountains just over our home. I'm surprised it didn't find us sooner."

"Where are we going to live?"

She always asked the tough questions. "I'm not sure, Lilly. We'll figure something out. We always do."

"Can we live here?" Her voice was extra sweet and childish today, but Rory caught the calculating glint in her eyes as she took another bite.

Rory looked away, pressing her lips together. "Aldric may let us stay with him for a while, but we can't live here forever."

"Why not?"

"Lilly," she said flatly, leveling her gaze at her. "We can't just decide to invade his life and move in here."

Lilly smiled. "I think Aldric _wants_ you to invade his life."

"What has gotten into you today?"

"Nothing," she trilled, brushing crumbs from her front. "I just like it here, is all. The house is so neat and the lake is pretty. Can we go down and look at it today?"

"You don't know how to swim."

"I didn't say I wanted to _swim_ in the lake, I said I wanted to _look_ at it."

"I know what that means, and that means you want to go in it."

"Well, not all the _way_. Just a little bit."

Rory rolled her eyes, but then straightened as Lydia approached.

"Hello," the housecarl said to Rory. "I didn't get a chance to speak to you last night. I'm Lydia."

"I'm Rory," she introduced herself. "This is my sister, Lilly."

Lydia favored her with a nod, and gave a friendly smile to Lilly. "Did I hear you talking about the lake?"

"Yes!" Lilly said eagerly. "I _really_ want to go see it. Are there fishes in the lake?"

"Of course," Lydia replied. "Several different kinds. There are also dragonflies and sometimes even mudcrabs."

Lilly wrinkled her nose. "Mudcrabs are mean. I don't like them."

Rory snorted. Like that had ever stopped her from pestering the smaller ones that lived by the stream behind the house.

"They won't bother us if we don't bother them," Lydia assured her.

"Can I go with Lydia? Please?" Lilly pleaded.

Rory tensed almost painfully. She trusted what Aldric had said, that either of the housecarls would protect Lilly, and the lake was very near…

"Maybe we can all go together in a little while," she said at last, giving her a thin smile. "I want to see it too, you know."

Lilly's shoulders sagged, but she didn't argue. "Is later okay, Lydia?"

"Sure thing. Would you like to help me do some things in the kitchen? I could use an extra pair of hands."

"Okay."

Rory didn't object when Lilly got up and scampered off with Lydia. She was fine if Lydia or Rayya wanted to make friends with Lilly, and she didn't mind if they offered to take her out and do things with her. But she was waiting for the moment where one or both of them would try to push, or gently argue with her.

She wandered around for a few moments before deciding to go down to the cellar to see Aldric. Rory knew he was waiting for her to fulfill her part of the deal and tell him her story. She still didn't want to, but she wouldn't go back on her word now. Not after what he'd shared with her.

Rory noticed the cellar was warmer than it had been earlier. Aldric must have been working the forge in the other room. She followed the loud banging sounds and rounded the corner to see him at the worktable around the corner.

He stood there hammering at a sheet of metal, his upper body bare. The muscles in his back flexed as he worked the material, glistening with perspiration in the light from the forge.

Her eyes traced the powerful curve of his shoulders and arms, and the gentle swell of his chest as it sloped to his abdomen, rippled with muscle. His shaggy, pale hair swayed with each strike of the hammer, drifting just past his jaw. His dark brows were furrowed as he concentrated on his work. As she watched, a bead of sweat rolled slowly down his side, carving a wet trail down his skin.

She must have made some small movement, because he frowned suddenly and looked up. "Oh. How long have you been there?"

For a split second she wondered if her voice would work. "I just came down a moment ago. Am I interrupting you?"

"No." He laid down the hammer and stood back, facing her. He rubbed his face and then placed both hands behind his neck, stretching. "I should probably take a break."

She observed the impressive way his arm muscles bunched in that position. The light dusting of hair on his chest dipped down to a thin trail that disappeared into his pants. It was much darker than his fair hair, dark like his eyebrows. She wondered at the contrast and then forced herself to look away.

"I'd like to talk to you now, if I could."

He gave her a half-smile that seemed to say, _Finally_. "Sure. Do you mind if I eat?"

"No." She just hoped he didn't choke.

He walked out of the hot room and settled at a small table near the long counter that held the shrines of the Nine Divines. There was bowl of some kind of stew or soup waiting for him, as well as a couple bottles of mead.

Rory picked one up and uncorked it. Aldric watched her take a long swig as he started to eat his food.

"You mentioned that you could smell wolf on me when I was injured, and when you tended to my injury you saw that it helped. And that I was able to heal the burn," she started.

He grinned. "You growled at me, too."

"My mother was a werewolf."

"I figured you had wolf in you," he said, swallowing.

"And my father was a vampire."

"Are you telling me you're a _hybrid_?" Aldric asked, stunned, his mouth full.

She watched him carefully. "Yes. I am, and so is Lilly."

"…how?" he asked after a stretch of uncomfortable silence. "I've heard stories and legends about this kind of thing, but…isn't it impossible?"

"Almost," she agreed. "The two diseases repel each other. They cancel each other out. It should be impossible for someone like me to occur. But…my father had many theories."

"Such as?"

She rubbed her neck, thinking back. "He believed it was important that my mother was the living parent. The same freeze that prevents vampires from aging also likely prevents a child from growing in a vampire mother."

"But not from siring one."

She shook her head. "Apparently not. Such a union was forbidden by both my mother's and my father's people. When my mother's pack found out, they turned her away, banished her. They would've killed her if she hadn't been so dominant."

"And your father's people?"

"He belonged to the Volkihar clan at one point. I'm not sure how important he was to them, but he was powerful enough. I'm told that he was supposed to kill my mother, but when he met her, he couldn't. For some reason, he couldn't do it."

Aldric studied her. "Sometimes we want what we're not allowed to have."

She took another drink of mead. "I suppose."

"What happened to your father when his people found out?"

"He left before that happened. That angered them, but they allowed it. My father once told me that the leader of his coven believed that he would be back one day. It happens from time to time." She shrugged.

"And they didn't know about your mother?" Aldric asked.

"No, not at first."

"How did your mother's pack find out?"

Rory looked away. "My mother had family in the pack. She was close to them. When she found that she carried me, she went to them, hoping they could accept it. They didn't."

Aldric pushed aside the forgotten bowl of stew. "What happened to your parents, Rory?"

She clenched her hand tightly, the feel of her nails in her palm steadying her. "My mother had a difficult pregnancy with Lilly. She died trying to birth her. Not long after, my father left Lilly and I in the house. He told us he was going to try to find someone he knew that could help us, and that he would be back soon. I never saw him again. I assume he's dead."

He looked down. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," she said, unable to keep her bitterness from her voice. "I don't blame my parents for falling in love. It happens. I blame them for bringing us into the world. They knew how dangerous it was to be together, that they could be killed at any second, and they didn't care."

His hand moved on the table, as if he would reach out to her, but he stopped. "Is this why there are vampires after you?"

"Yes. My father's coven found out about my existence years after I was born. They viewed my creation as being an affront to the entire vampire species, something disgusting. You have to understand, my father told me they regularly sent out parties to kill lesser vampires who were trying to turn bandits, or something. _That_ was an abomination to them."

Aldric frowned. "After all that time, they still wanted to punish him?"

Rory smirked. "Time means nothing to vampires. Insults and grudges can last centuries. But no, that's not all. They want Lilly. They originally wanted me, but I was too strong."

"Why do they want Lilly?" He leaned back in his chair. "They don't view her as something wrong or disgusting?"

"Vampires can be many different things, but they are _all_ two-faced," she said. "While we're free, we're a blight on the entire species, but if they had her, or the both of us, we would make them very powerful."

"Explain that."

There was no way to soften it. "Lilly and I are stronger than both werewolves and vampires. Not that you would know it by being around Lilly, though. I'm sure you've noticed that she isn't like me, or my mother—well, how she used to be. She's gentle and soft. She's not a fighter."

He arched a brow. "She seemed to handle herself pretty well the night the vampires attacked us in your home. She dropped one all by herself."

"Lilly can defend herself when she's forced to, but she hates it." Rory's jaw clenched at the memory. "She hates hurting anyone. She's a little girl stronger than an Orc chief, and she wouldn't hurt a butterfly."

He smiled. "I never would have guessed it. She is very gentle. She knows everything that you've told me?"

"More or less." Rory pinched the bottle's cork. "She doesn't know everything that happened before I was born, but she knows enough."

"And what does she think about it?"

"She's not happy," Rory admits. "I'm the only parent she's ever known. I've raised her since she was only a few months old. She accepted the life we had, hiding where our father left us, but ever since she met you…" She took a deep breath. "She's been encouraging me to fight. Sometimes I think she's starting to get angry."

"You _should_ fight," Aldric said gently. "You can't hide for the rest of your life, Rory. They've already shown you that they're not going to give up. You said that time doesn't mean anything to them; the last ten or fifteen years has probably seemed like nothing to them."

"Ten or fifteen years?"

"You said they found out years after you were born. You don't look older than twenty-five or so," he observed.

Rory laughed, and then put her head in her hands. "No. No, I guess I wouldn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Aldric," she said slowly, "I am a hundred and twelve years old."

His sudden silence, and the way he tried to hide the shock in his eyes, made her nervous. He sat back in his chair as if he were reconsidering her.

"Being a hybrid has granted me many abilities and strengths, but this is one that I'd rather live without." She ignored his stunned silence. "My entire life has felt like a curse."

"Lilly?" he managed to ask.

She shook her head at the implied question. "Lilly is only eight. If she's anything like me, she'll age to adulthood and then stop."

More silence.

Rory resisted the urge to fidget and pressed on. "What you saw the first day you met me is what I've been dealing with for the last seven or so years," she said. "Somehow they found out my father was gone—for all I know, they killed him. Once they knew it was just Lilly and I, they pressed harder than ever. Before Lilly was born, they didn't dare openly hunt the three of us, my mother, father and I—we were too much for them to handle."

He merely nodded at her, his eyes distracted.

"Aldric…" she began awkwardly, fearing that she had alienated him already, "ever since you told me your story, Paarthurnax's words have been stuck in my head. The part about being born good, or overcoming your evil nature. And I know you have an open mind and heart, since you came to accept a dragon. I was hoping that you would grant me the same favor. I was hoping that you wouldn't think I'm some kind of atrocity the way they do."

His face came back to life suddenly, and he frowned. "I would never think that of you, Rory."

"What _do_ you think of me?" she whispered.

"I…" he paused, running his hand raggedly through his hair. "There are a lot of things to think about."

"Do you think I'm evil because part of what I am is vampire?"

He frowned harder. "No. I don't believe anyone is evil simply because of what they are. _You_ choose what you are in life."

Rory felt her throat swell and bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from surfacing. "I didn't choose what I am. I didn't choose my life. But with your help…I would choose to fight."

Once again, his hand moved in her direction. She kept her own firmly in her lap, knowing that if he touched her right now, her control would dissolve. She didn't want to cry in front of him.

He seemed to sense this, and pulled back. "You have whatever you need from me, Rory."

Shakily, she sucked in a breath. "I want to warn you, I have no idea where to start. I only have correspondence that I found on the body of the vampire mage that suggested they were part of a scouting party."

Looking thoughtful, he stroked the edge of the table. "I've had less than that to use before. We'll manage."

Rory recognized the fierce joy of the hunt in the gleam in Aldric's eyes as he looked at her. She had the feeling that the time he had taken to withdraw from the world was formally over.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **I was inspired to do a small Lilly chapter by a good friend of mine that has totally fallen for her charms. This one's for you, Oscar.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"See? I told you! With a little bit of work, it turns into butter." Lydia's voice was pleased as she patted Lilly on the back.

Lilly smiled up at her, but at the same time she was glad they could stop now. Making butter was a _lot_ harder than it looked, and Lydia didn't let her quit once she started.

She let go of the churn's handle and frowned at the red marks on her palms. They itched as they faded. "Can we eat some of it now?"

Lydia laughed like she'd said something funny. "As a matter of fact, we can. But first we'll need to make the bread to go with it."

Lilly gave a small sigh. If making bread was anything like making butter, she would rather skip lunch and go do something else instead.

Luckily, the bread turned out to be fun. Lydia let her measure out all the ingredients and stir them together in the bowl. She blew a cloud of flour at Lydia and then shrieked when the woman did it right back at her.

"Okay," Lydia said, "here's the fun part."

Lilly watched suspiciously. Churning butter had also been deemed 'fun'. Lydia turned the bowl over and dumped the whole sticky glob of flour and water out onto the table.

"Does it go into the oven like that?" she asked the Nord woman. "That doesn't look like bread. That looks goopy."

She grinned down at her. "No, not quite yet. Have you never made bread before with your sister?"

Lilly shrugged. "Rory only lets me chop up vegetables."

"Well, what you need to do now is knead the dough." Lydia made two fists and pushed them into the soggy pile. After a moment or two of squishing the dough around, it started to look smoother.

"Can I do it?" she asked.

"Of course! You can use the heel of your palm, too," Lydia told her.

Delighted, Lilly dug into the dough. So this was making bread! It was just playing with flour and water and some other stuff. However, the more she touched it, the stickier it seemed to get.

Lydia sprinkled some flour on her hands after she scraped the gluey dough from her fingers. After only a minute or two, the dough began to roll itself into a ball.

"Excellent!" The housecarl patted the ball of dough into a long shape and placed it on a flat paddle. She let Lilly slide it into the oven. "And we're done! This bread is easy and fast to make because you don't have to let it rise. In my home, we called it 'morning bread.'"

"How long until we can eat it?" Lilly asked her.

Lydia laughed again. "Not much longer now. The good part about cooking is that when you're done with all the work, you get a reward."

Bread and butter didn't seem like much of a reward to Lilly, but she didn't object. The smell coming from the oven was making her stomach speak its own language.

* * *

She was on her third slice when Rory came up from the cellar. Mouth full, she held her plate up at her. "Want some? I made it! I didn't get any hairs in it, I promise!"

Her sister shook her head at her, and then Lilly noticed something odd. Rory's eyes were kind of red and puffy looking. She frowned. "Are you crying?"

Rory swiped at her eyes. "No."

"Yes, you are." Lilly put down her half-eaten bread, disturbed. She had only seen Rory cry once before, and that was when Lilly had lost track of time in the woods one day and Rory couldn't find her.

Rory walked past the dining table into the bedroom they had slept in last night. She didn't close the door behind her, so Lilly helped herself and followed her. She wanted to hug Rory, but she didn't. Sometimes hugging her when she was upset made it worse.

"Did you fight with Aldric?" she asked, a little worried.

"No," her sister replied quietly.

She scrunched up her face, and even though she couldn't imagine it she asked, "Did he say something mean to you?"

Rory sighed. "No, Lilly. He didn't do anything. It's me. I'm sad because…"

"Because why?"

Rory laid on her back in the bed, rolling to face her. She looked miserable, and a little scared.

"You told him about mama and dad."

She nodded.

The bread and butter suddenly didn't feel so good in her stomach. "What did he say?"

"He didn't say much. He was quiet. It's a lot for him to think about."

"Is he going to help you fight the bad guys?" Lilly pulled at a loose thread in her sleeve.

"He said he was going to."

"Then how come you're sad?"

Rory closed her eyes. "I don't know. He thinks I'm a freak." Her breath hitched.

Lilly stroked her hair, something Rory liked. "No, he doesn't. He knows about being different. He's the Dragonborn."

Rory gave a short laugh. "You're really stuck on that, aren't you?"

"He's a hero, like from the storybooks. Except he's real." Lilly pulled a long strand of Rory's dark hair through her fingers. She didn't know how it was so soft. Her own hair was kind of scratchy. "I'm glad he's going to help us."

"You're not worried? We could get hurt."

"Aldric won't let anyone hurt you." He couldn't, not the way he looked at her sister. "And he's too tough to get hurt. He fights dragons."

"I fought a dragon, too, you know," Rory pointed out.

Lilly smiled. "I guess you're pretty tough too."

"Thanks."

She began to braid some of Rory's hair. "Are you going to leave soon?"

A quiet moment passed. "I don't know. Sometime soon."

"You have to leave me behind, don't you." Lilly tried not to make her voice sound sad when she said it.

Rory opened her eyes. "We have to. I can't take you with us, Lilly. It's too dangerous."

"I know." She finished the braid and draped it over the pillow, starting a new one. "Can I stay here with Rayya and Lydia?"

"Maybe," Rory said, but her voice got too high like it did when she meant _no_.

Lilly gently combed her fingers through Rory's hair for a while, weaving and tugging the strands into place as she braided more. Rory's breathing was getting slow, and her face didn't look so pinched.

"What will we do when you come back? After you win?" Lilly asked quietly.

"I don't know," Rory answered, her voice sleepy. "We'll have to think of something."

After a little while, Rory fell asleep. Lilly curled up on the other side of the bed, hugging her pillow as she watched her sister. She could normally think of lots of things she'd like to do that were more fun than being in the house all the time, but for right now she was okay with where she was.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **I've been bad about my shout-outs. Unending thanks to **tibarion**, **mwjen**, **SirronRocks**, **TheRedMagpie**, guest **Chris**, **FaberryBrittana**, **ReannaExplosion**, **Valfreya**, **DanTheJogger93**, **Meister de** **Zeit**, **Someone345**, and **skyrimpotato** for the follows, favorites and reviews! And a super special thank you to **floridayankee**, **KK Jace**, **Ike** and **rebfan90**. I never thought I would be saying it, but that's almost too many to list! Each and every one of you mean so much to me.

This one goes out to floridayankee, who said she would die if this didn't happen. No dying on my watch!

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Aldric spent a restless night in bed. His body was tired, and ached to fall asleep, but his mind was full of relentless thoughts. He finally gave up on trying to get comfortable and opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling.

The house was relatively quiet. Only Rayya's light snoring could be heard from the other room. Rain pattered gently on the roof. Everything was peaceful, and yet he couldn't fall asleep.

_A hundred and twelve_. Rory was more than a century old; more than three times his own age. He knew he shouldn't focus on that so intensely. After all, she certainly didn't look or act like someone that old. He never would have known if she hadn't told him. She wasn't a different person.

Aldric wasn't quite sure why it bothered him so much, then. Rory seemed unaffected by their age difference; surely someone as young as he was to her would seem childish or inexperienced. He wondered if she would still ask for his help if he hadn't accomplished so much in his life.

Then he realized that was what was vexing him. What that difference meant. It didn't bother him that Rory was so much older than him, but it did bother him in a different way. A way he knew he had no right to be worried about.

What would it mean for them if she were to share her life with him? If he wanted to love her, be with her…would she stay youthful forever while he slowly aged into an old man?

Then Aldric considered a question he had often pondered after learning that he was dovahkiin. He may have had the soul of a dragon, but he inhabited the body of a man. He had no reason to believe he wouldn't age as men did, but then again…anything was possible. If he were to age as a dragon did, he could live as long as Rory.

But did she have the lifespan of a vampire? As far as he knew, they were immortal. They would not die so long as they avoided violence. But Rory was only half vampire.

He thought back to what he'd learned of Dunmer. It was possible for the elves to live to nearly a thousand years if they stayed healthy. He wondered if that was closer to what Rory could expect.

He grumbled out loud and rolled over roughly, yanking the covers with him. He should be looking ahead at tactics and strategy, places they could go visit and search.

Instead, all he could think about was something that had never troubled him before—his humanity.

* * *

In the morning, he made his way downstairs with only a few hours of sleep. He was confronted with a table full of women—Rayya, Lydia, Rory, and Lilly were just starting breakfast.

Smiling a little, he pulled out a chair. "How was everyone's night?"

Rayya and Lydia gave the usual replies of restful sleep, and Lilly piped in with the claim that she'd slept like a dead person. Rory, however, was silent. He noticed that she looked the way he felt, as if he'd used a rock for a pillow.

When he passed her the stone jar of honey, his fingers brushed hers. She jerked so violently that she dropped the jar, and it fell to the table.

Rayya and Lydia continued to eat as if they hadn't noticed, but Lilly frowned severely at her sister.

"What's wrong with you today?" she demanded.

"Nothing." Rory shook her head, but didn't meet anyone's eyes.

Lilly looked right at Aldric and said, "Rory is afraid you think she's a monster."

"Lilly!" Rory hissed, glaring at her.

"Well, it's true." The girl bit into a snowberry tart.

Aldric smiled at Lilly. "I already told her that there's nothing wrong with her."

"See?" Lilly nudged Rory with an elbow. "He still likes you. He probably still even wants to kiss you."

With a groan, Rory dropped her head into her hands. "Stop talking now, please."

Grinning, Aldric righted the jar of honey. "You're a pretty smart kid, Lilly."

The tips of Rory's ears turned red. Lydia smiled into her mug of tea.

Rory raised her head. "You still want to go to the lake?" she asked Lilly.

The girl's eyebrows shot up. "Yes!"

"Let's go."

Still looking surprised, Lilly pushed back from the table and ran after her sister. Rory paused only to grab the newer ebony bow Aldric had lent her, and then left through the front doors.

Rayya dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "Is everything all right, sir?"

Aldric sighed and picked up his plate as he stood. "I have no idea."

Lydia, having lived with him longer, was less formal. "You should go after her."

"I think she wants to be alone. She left for a reason."

His friend gave him a gentle, knowing smile. "She does want to be alone. But she also wants you to find her."

He looked at Rayya uncertainly. "What do you think?"

"There is wisdom to what Lydia says," she admitted after a moment.

He closed his eyes. "If I walk back in here with a broken nose, I'm coming after you two."

* * *

He found Rory and Lilly standing at the water's edge not far from the house. Aldric had noted on his way down that the altar just past the house was deserted—it had been there before he began building, and he was fairly certain he had scared off any rogue mages, but he still checked it from time to time.

Lilly splashed in the shallows, running back and forth. Her hair whipped in the breeze coming off the water and her cheeks were flushed red. Water had soaked her dress almost above her knees. She looked ecstatic.

Rory stood back on the bank nearby, looking out over the gentle waves. She held a handful of rocks. Every few minutes, she would hurl one out over the lake with a quick, powerful movement. Each time, the rock soared out of view and landed in the water, too far away for Aldric to see.

After a little while, he approached her. At the sound of his boots on the rocks, she whipped around, automatically pulling her bow from her back as she sank into a crouch. For an instant, her eyes flashed at him, wild and ready to strike.

He held his hands out. "It's just me."

She straightened and put the bow up. "I'm sorry."

The way she said it hinted that she was apologizing for things other than what had just happened. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

Wordlessly, she turned from him and looked out over the water again. He joined her, watching the waves ripple and flow under the gray sky. Lilly, feeling bold at his presence, began to splash further away down the bank.

"What are you thinking?" he asked after some time.

He thought she might not answer, until she said, "I don't know. Nothing. Everything."

"Try picking one thing."

"I can't." She watched Lilly play yards away from them. The girl was oblivious to anything but what she was doing.

"Then what are you feeling?"

She exhaled quietly. "Everything except what I want to be feeling."

"Try to quiet your mind. See what comes to you first." He looked over at her, noticing the tension in her jaw.

After a moment or two of staring at the lake, she closed her eyes. Her shoulders started to loosen, and she hung her head.

"I'm having a hard time allowing my anger to come out, to be free," she admitted. "For so long, I've been storing it away inside of me. Now that we're going to do something about…all this…I can't find it when I need it."

Aldric was glad to see that the crack in her walls was widening. "Why do you need it?"

"Because anger is the only thing stronger than fear," she said, turning to him. "Don't you know that?"

"That's not true."

"Isn't it?" Two spots of color bloomed in her cheeks as her voice became more heated. "Fear can poison you. It can slowly kill you from the inside out. And anger can keep you going for years—it can make you strong when you might give up."

"And it can kill you just the same as fear," he said calmly. "You have a fire inside of you long enough, and it'll burn you up."

"What else is there? What could be stronger?"

"Guilt," he said. "Shame." He looked directly into her eyes. "Love."

She looked away. "Not for some people."

"Why not? Why not for you, Rory?" He took her hand. "You've cared about everyone else but yourself for your entire life. Why are you afraid to let someone care about you?"

She started to pull away, but not roughly. He didn't let go of her. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I can't make myself open to anyone. I can't risk that."

He turned and gently took her other hand. "No one's asking you to risk anything."

"We're about to risk everything," she whispered, facing him now. Her coppery eyes pinned him to where he stood.

"If you ever want anything in life, you're going to have to give before you can take." He ran his thumb over her cheekbone, hardly breathing. "Nothing that is worth having in this world will be easy."

Rory didn't say anything, staring into his eyes. Her fingers clutched his tightly. For once, he didn't fear that she would pull away.

Slowly, very slowly, Aldric moved his hand down to her throat. He cupped the side of her neck, losing his fingers in the warm tangle of her hair. He moved his body closer to hers, and she didn't resist.

When his lips met hers, it was like touching silk that burned. He heard her gasp quietly against his mouth and pulled her to him until they touched. She moved her hands to rest at his waist, gripping tightly at the leather he wore.

She stepped back after a few seconds, breathing heavily. Her eyes were wide and held a touch of the same wild look he'd seen when he had surprised her earlier.

"That doesn't really help me quiet my mind," she breathed.

"Then I'm not trying hard enough." He reached for her again, but before he could kiss her a second time, a loud thudding noise sounded to their left.

He looked over to see Lilly, her hands frozen from where she'd dropped a large rock into the mud. The elated grin on her face was at direct odds with what came out of her mouth.

"Eww!"


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Thank you to **jpuga96**, **dinubesleu**, **Aimlesslee**, **VealMaster**, **CircleGalifrayen**, and **Wetoos** for the follows and favorites. And thank to you to my "regulars" for the reviews!

I'm also excited to say that Ike, a former guest, has been inspired to create his own story based on his Skyrim adventures. With that, I'd like to welcome **Drew Ike Treboot**! Can't wait to see what he comes up with. (He has posted an offer for some creative dialogue in the reviews section. Feel free to send him a PM!)

* * *

**Chapter 15**

It had been a long time since Rory traveled so openly on the roads of Skyrim. It felt unnatural to be walking on the road, passing travelers here and there. Every time they passed a thick stand of trees, her body vibrated with the need to run to it.

She had also forgotten how beautiful the land was. Whiterun Hold was much wider and flatter than the land around Falkreath; where it lacked the cover of the trees, it offered a magnificent, clear view for miles. The Throat of the World loomed in the distance to the southwest, and the gentle roll of hills and plains stretched wide before it.

Rory, Lilly, and Aldric had just passed Riverwood and had descended the hill on the road to Whiterun. The walled city rose up proudly in the near distance. Lilly, excited as ever, screeched when she saw it.

"Is that it?" she asked Aldric excitedly.

He pushed her excitedly flapping hands away good-naturedly. "Yes, that's Whiterun."

"I can see Dragonsreach!" she said, running ahead. "There's a big dragon skull in there, isn't there? I can't wait to see it!"

Rory caught the split second falter of Aldric's smile and touched his shoulder. He covered her hand with his, silently acknowledging her reassurance.

"Don't run too far ahead!" she called out.

"I'll meet you at the gates!" Lilly yelled over her shoulder, her voice already growing fainter with the distance.

"She's not serious, is she?" Aldric asked Rory.

"No." She pursed her lips and then considered how fast Lilly's legs were pumping. "I think."

"Lilly!" Aldric called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

She didn't stop.

Rory swore and started to run after her. She wasn't seriously worried; the open nature of the hold allowed her to spot dangers far away, and Lilly was racing past the meadery that Aldric had told her about, which included several patrolling guards. Still, she didn't want Lilly to get too far ahead.

She rounded the corner and blew past a guard, who sputtered a demand about what she was doing. She ignored him and set her sights on the little girl, thirty yards ahead.

Lilly looked over her shoulder and spied Rory in hot pursuit. She gave a little shriek and ran faster. Annoyed, Rory pushed on.

Lilly never stopped. She ran and ran until they reached the stables, and then she raced up the path under the bridge to get to the gates. Rory skidded to a stop and followed at a walk, trying to slow her breathing.

When she turned the corner to see the main gates, she spied Lilly standing before them, receiving a stern talking-to from the guards stationed there.

She approached the small crowd and drew Lilly to her.

"Does she belong to you?" a guard asked.

"Yes," Rory said neutrally. "She got excited when she saw the city."

The man crossed his arms. "As we were just telling her, she needs to be more careful. Someone might think something is wrong if she's running to the gates that fast. You know, times are dangerous, what with the dragons still about."

"I wasn't even doing anything," Lilly mumbled sullenly.

Rory didn't appreciate his condescending tone, but didn't react. "Thank you. I will talk to her."

"See that you do," he sniffed. Then his posture and tone completely changed. "Harbinger!"

Rory looked over her shoulder to see Aldric approaching. He gave the guard an easygoing smile. "Hello, Griffin."

"It's been a long while since you've returned!" the guard named Griffin exclaimed.

"It has," Aldric agreed, "but I'll be making more trips to Whiterun soon."

"Adrianne will be glad," Griffin said. "She said she misses all the exotic weapons you brought to her."

Aldric chuckled. "I'm sure she does. How have things been in the city while I've been gone?"

Griffin sounded morose. "Well, for the most part. We have had a problem with some vampire attacks this past year. Damn creatures don't get the hint. No deaths so far, but it's been a near thing a few times."

Rory stiffened, and noticed Aldric's face tighten. "Thank you, Griffin. I'll be by the barracks later to talk to Commander Caius."

The guard dipped his head. "As you say, Harbinger." He returned to his post, and he and another guard pushed the massive wooden gates open for them.

"Harbinger?" Rory asked quietly as they passed into the city.

He laid his hand on the small of her back and lowered his mouth to her ear. She shivered. "I'll explain in a moment."

They passed a blacksmith's shop that was to the immediate right of the gates. The forge outside was untended, so Aldric walked past. "That's where Adrianne usually is, but she must be inside with her husband. We can come back."

"Where do you live?" she asked, observing the city. It was styled in a hearty, traditional way; the wooden cottage-like structures were simple and plain, but looked strong.

"As a matter of fact, I live right here." They stopped alongside a cottage that was next to the smith. "This is Breezehome. But while we're here, we'll be staying at Jorrvaskr."

She frowned. "That sounds familiar."

"Jorrvaskr? Have you heard of the Companions?" he asked, giving her a lopsided grin.

"Yes, I have. Descended from Ysgramor's Five Hundred Companions?" she asked.

"Exactly. Jorrvaskr is where they're located."

"And why will we be staying there?" she asked, arching a brow. "Are you a Companion?"

A light breeze stirred his hair. "Yes, I am."

"And what does Harbinger mean?"

"When I came to the Companions, a man named Kodlak was their Harbinger. He was eventually killed by a group of people that wanted him and several other members of the Companions dead. He designated that I replace him shortly after his death." He cut her off before she could speak. "I will tell you more if you wish it, later."

She narrowed her eyes. "Very well."

As he led her through the town's marketplace, Lilly pranced ahead of them, the earlier offense of being disciplined by the guards apparently forgotten. Two other children her size, a boy and a girl, ran past and stopped in their tracks when they spotted Lilly.

Lilly froze as well, her face a mask of uncertainty and anxiety. Rory could practically see her desire to be accepted, and her fear of being rejected, warring in her eyes. She stood and watched the encounter between the three children, muscles tense. She prayed for kindness.

After a moment of wordless appraisal, the other girl tapped Lilly energetically on the shoulder. Lilly flinched in surprise.

"You're it!" the girl sang, and tore off through the streets, the boy on her heels.

Lilly looked up at her and Aldric, looking confused.

"It's tag," Aldric explained. "You chase them and then whoever you catch becomes 'it.' Better get going!"

The look on her face made Rory's heart soar. Lilly raced off after the boy and girl, feet flying. "I'm going to get you!" The other girl shrieked in delight and grinned over her shoulder at Lilly.

"That's Mila Valentia, the daughter of a food vendor here," Aldric told her, gesturing to Lilly's new friend. "She's a nice little girl. Do you want to leave her out here? The children will be fine here in town with the guards…"

Rory shook her head. "Let her play for a little while. She won't feel comfortable being left alone."

She soaked in the sight of the two children playing with Lilly. The game had changed; now the three of them were tossing a ball back and forth, faster and faster. After a few moments, Mila waved goodbye and ran back to the marketplace to find her mother. The boy talked to Lilly and then took his leave as well.

Breathless, Lilly rushed back over to Rory, face shining. "That was Mila and Lars! They said I'm their new friend now."

It made Rory glad to hear her chattering about the two kids on the way up the steps past the market's stalls. She was happy to see her finally interacting with other children, but she also worried that Lilly would be upset if they decided not to stay in Whiterun.

Before they had left Lakeview Manor, she and Aldric had decided that leaving Lilly with Rayya and Lydia was not for the best. It was too close to their former home, where the scouting party had already found them. And, as Aldric admitted, the housecarls were more than capable of defending Lilly, but had no true battle experience.

So Aldric had suggested that they visit a few of his 'friends' to see if any of them were willing to take Lilly in while they began the hunt. During his travels and experiences, he had met many people that had forged bonds of loyalty and friendship with him. He had said that he knew at least some of them would seriously consider the favor he was about to ask.

Though, Rory reflected, if he had mentioned that some of those people happened to be the Companions, she may have felt a little less fearful about the entire process.

"If you're the Harbinger, do you even have to ask?" she wondered out loud. Lilly gaped at the Gildergreen, a huge flowering tree set in the heart of Whiterun. They stopped again to let her explore.

He didn't ask her what she meant by that. "No, Rory, I do still have to ask. The Companions have no formal leader; when Kodlak was the Harbinger, they looked to him as being a sort of father figure for the group, offering wisdom and advice. He never gave orders or told anyone what to do," he said. "The others have accepted my occupation of the title, but they don't have the same trust in me yet. Especially after how things have been lately."

"How things have been?" she repeated questioningly.

"When I decided to make my home in Falkreath, I spoke with Vilkas," he explained. "He belongs to the inner group of senior members, known as the Circle. He also serves as the Master-at-Arms for the Companions. I nominated him to be my proxy while I was gone. He accepted, but he was not happy that I was leaving so soon after accepting the title from Kodlak."

She frowned. "Will they be unhappy to see you?"

"No." He shook his head, looking confident. "But some of them will be wary. I have not proven myself a very good Harbinger to them. I may have to earn trust back."

Very slightly frustrated, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Why did we come here if things are this way between you?"

"It's not like that, Rory." He reached for her hand but she pulled her arm away. "You'll see once we meet with them. You'll understand."

"If you say so," she said doubtfully, and called for Lilly. She returned to them with pink blossoms tucked into her hair.

* * *

"It's a _ship_?" Lilly demanded upon seeing Jorrvaskr.

Aldric grinned. "Save your questions for a man inside named Vignar. He'll give you an earful."

Lilly's playful demeanor seemed to shrink as Aldric led the way inside. Rory could relate. A feeling of nervous expectation fluttered in her stomach as the doors closed behind them.

Her eyes adjusted from the sunny, bright world outside to the dimmer interior of Jorrvaskr. They stood before a wide, rectangular fire pit set into the floor before a long dining table. The table held a few people in the midst of their midday meal.

"Harbinger?" a man exclaimed, quiet shock in his voice. He pushed back from the table roughly, his chair scraping the wooden floor.

"Brill, please," Aldric chided, embracing the man briefly.

"Aldric," Brill amended, smiling. "It's been so long!"

"Only a year. I assume Vilkas shared my correspondence with you?"

"Well, yes," Brill said, looking sheepish, "but he neglected to mention any personal details."

At the mention of 'personal details', the man turned his gaze to Rory and Lilly. He looked her up and down, and it seemed to Rory that he was appraising her in more ways than merely a man looking at a woman. She wondered what would be required, in his mind, to be worthy of O Mighty Harbinger. Narrowing her eyes at him, she returned his stare.

"Are congratulations in order?" Brill asked Aldric politely. "Do I have the honor of meeting your wife and child?"

Aldric looked stricken, and then flushed slightly. It was interesting to see. "Ysmir's beard, Brill, I've only been away a year. This is my…Rory, and this is her sister, Lilly."

"I'm eight," Lilly supplied helpfully.

"So you are," Brill smiled down at her, somewhat awkwardly. "Are you hungry, Lilly?" He looked up at the two of them. "You, as well? You must be tired and thirsty from your travels."

"We've only been on the road a couple of hours." Aldric waved his concerns away. "I'd like to visit my quarters and unpack a few things, though."

Rory had noticed an elderly woman hovering on the edge of the conversation, watching Lilly like a hawk tracks a rabbit. The look, however, was not predatory. Rory assumed she was the housemother, of sorts, and that children were a rare sight amongst the warriors she tended.

Aldric followed Rory's eyes to the woman. "Ah, Tilma," he greeted. "It's good to see you again."

"You as well, dear." She patted his shoulder and gave a warm smile to Rory. "May I show the little girl around?"

Rory hesitated for only a moment. Aldric was about to say something, but she nodded at Tilma. "You can. I'm sure she wouldn't object to a sweetroll or two."

Beaming, the old woman moved forward to talk to Lilly. At the mention of her favorite treat, Lilly left with her eagerly. Once again, Aldric's hand found the small of her back, as if acknowledging the trust she had given.

"I'll be back later, Brill. We can speak more."

Brill gave a respectful nod and returned to the table. As soon as he had left the area, Rory noticed more people waiting behind him to speak to Aldric. A Dunmer man wearing his hair in a high ponytail and a woman with fierce red stripes of paint across her face stepped up.

"We're glad to see you once more, Harbinger," the man said, lowering his head in the same respectful nod Brill had given.

"Took you long enough," the woman barked, less courteously.

"Athis, Njada," Aldric greeted them. "It's good to see you again. I'm going to take a few moments to settle in my quarters, and then I'll be back. Where is everyone else?"

Athis smiled. "Vilkas and Farkas are outside with Aela, in the training yard. Torvar is in Dawnstar at the request of the Jarl."

"By himself?" Aldric seemed concerned.

"He has wrestled with learning control this past year," the elf said, grinning. "Farkas has been giving him advice. Now only when he returns to Jorrvaskr from his jobs does he engage in the drink."

Aldric returned the smile. "That's heartening to hear."

Njada watched Rory with the same appraising look Brill had given her. Rory looked back at her blankly, refusing to take the bait in her hostile eyes. After a few moments, Athis left with the Nord woman, and Aldric turned to her.

"My quarters are this way."

He led her down a set of stairs near the right wall of the building. Lilly was sitting with Tilma at a table within the doors, busily chatting about what she'd seen on the road during their trip here. She didn't look up once from the sweetroll she was attacking between sentences.

Aldric's room was at the very end of the long, wide hallway. The sitting room within the doors was modestly fitted with a few display cases, a bookcase displaying some objects and a few actual books, and two tables. Aldric closed the doors behind him and set his knapsack down.

While he was immersed in the tidy pile of unopened letters on the writing desk, Rory opened the second set of doors. The bedroom was small but very tidy, and the linens smelled fresh. She did her best to ignore the fact that there was only one bed inside, just big enough for two people.

"What do you think?" Aldric was leaning against the desk, waiting for her.

"I was expecting more weapons. Maybe a few severed heads."

"Was that a jest?" he asked, grinning.

She couldn't help but smile a little back at him. "No."

"I'm sorry that they watch you so closely," he said suddenly, losing his smile. "They're only curious."

"It doesn't bother me. I figured as much."

He grinned again, but it didn't meet his eyes. "It'll be worse with the Circle. Especially with Aela. But you might understand why once you meet them."

"What does that mean?" she asked suspiciously.

He looked like he was enjoying having a secret. "You'll see."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Bonus chapter! Because, Friday.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Rory was annoyed that Aldric was holding something back from her. He seemed unconcerned, so she knew the secret wasn't bad, but she didn't like being left out. The entire way through the building and out the back doors, he wore the same self-satisfied grin on his face. She wanted to pinch his ear.

He entered the training yard with her. Across the way, standing in the shade of a small alcove in the wall, a tall man stood with his massive arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene in front of him.

Another man was practicing on a wooden and sackcloth dummy, spinning and whirling as he tested new moves. His greatsword flashed in the sunlight and his grunts and short yells of effort echoed from the stone around them.

A tall, slim woman was closest to them, leaning peacefully against a wooden beam supporting the roof that extended over the patio. She turned her head absently at the sound of the doors opening and closing, and her eyes sharpened as she registered Aldric's presence.

"Harbinger!" she said, standing straight. Beyond her in the yard, the man training nearly dropped his sword and spun around. The man in the shade straightened the same way the woman did, as if embarrassed to be caught relaxing.

"Aela, it's good to see you," Aldric greeted her.

She approached the two of them, her lean body moving sinuously. Long red hair cascaded over her shoulders, fluttering in the breeze. Stripes of semi-faded green paint stretched across her face, tribal and fierce.

"Harbinger," the tall man from the shade said, deep voice growling. He had beaten the second man to the porch.

"Stop, please. Use my name," Aldric protested good-naturedly.

The second man had no problem taking him at his word. "Aldric," he acknowledged. From the tone of his voice, Rory guessed him to be Vilkas.

He was tall and lean, from what she could see of his body. Dark-haired and sporting several days of beard growth, he never smiled as he approached her and Aldric. Dark war paint surrounded his pale silver eyes, eyes that were similar to Aela's.

He wore an armor Rory had never seen before. It was steel and looked burnished to a soft, nearly golden shade. Pauldrons crested proudly from the shoulders, the focus of his upper body. Her brows twitched as she noticed a figurine jutting from the center of his breastplate; was that…?

As they all gathered nearer, Rory became overwhelmed with their scent. All three of them were lycanthropes. As their individual smells entered her nose, she backed up, a burst of anxiety crawling through her chest.

At the foreign scents and the feel of Rory's sudden unease, her own wolf stirred. She felt it come to sharp attention, excited by the presence of the three other werewolves. The excitement turned to apprehension, however, as her wolf became aware that all three of them smelled dominant.

Aela's nostrils flared once, and her eyes flickered. "Sister," she breathed, her voice sounding lower. She took a few steps closer to Rory. "You smell of wolf, and yet…"

Vilkas, intrigued, also came nearer, craning his neck to smell her. "What is that?"

Rory's wolf did not like the two of them advancing on her like that. A low warning growl rumbled in her throat, and she flinched at Aldric's laugh of surprise.

"Okay, all right, I think I made a mistake here." He stepped between Rory and the two Companions, still grinning. "I shouldn't have surprised you like that. Come on, back up, guys."

Aela and Vilkas, looking surprised, retreated. The other man was the only one that had kept a respectful distance. Rory looked up at Aldric, and from the look on his face she knew he could see her wolf through her eyes. His smile faded a bit.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that might not go so well. I should have known," he said, his voice apologetic.

She pulled Aldric's familiar scent in through her nose strongly. Her wolf seemed to be comforted by it, relaxing a bit. "I'm fine."

"She is strong," Aela observed, still blocked by Aldric's form. "Vilkas and I forgot ourselves momentarily, and her beast rightfully perceived us as a challenge. The mistake is ours."

Aldric moved aside, and Rory looked at the other woman. "What a way to meet you for the first time."

Aela smiled wide, showing sharp, white teeth. "I have not made such an error in years. You must forgive me; it has been long since I have come across a new sibling. Your scent is very…unique."

"Yes," Vilkas said sourly from the other side of Aldric. His eyes still held the suggestion of his own wolf. "'Unique' is one way to put it. I would have said 'strange.'"

"Don't say things like that, brother," the other man chastised.

Rory noticed immediately that the man looked very similar to Vilkas. It was more than the resemblance between brothers; besides his powerfully built frame, sporting more muscle and height than Vilkas, and shaggy hair that was nearly the same length as Aldric's, they were identical. They had the same strong nose, carved jaw, and wide mouth.

"Twins," she said out loud before she realized she had spoken.

The man smiled. His eyes were kinder than Vilkas's. "Yes. I'm Farkas, and this is my brother Vilkas."

"I am Aela the Huntress," said Aela proudly. "Our Harbinger honors us with your presence. What is your name, sister?"

"Aurora," she offered. "But please, call me Rory."

Vilkas was the only one that didn't seem ready to offer friendliness to her. She ignored his curious and slightly aggressive stare; her wolf, too, did not enjoy his scent. He smelled angry, just below the surface. She didn't know if Aldric could sense it; he was absorbed in chatting happily with Aela and Farkas, both of whom seemed glad to see him.

So this was why Aldric had traveled first to Whiterun to speak with them. Out of all his choices, he seemed to believe that a group of werewolves would be the best selection to watch over Lilly.

Rory had to admit that it was highly unlikely that vampires would attack the legendary Companions, and that it was unlikelier still that they would be eager to face three werewolf members.

But, as she watched Vilkas's face, she had the feeling the proposal would not go over well.

* * *

Rory stood in Aela's quarters with her an hour later. Aldric, Vilkas and Farkas were busily eating in the great room together. Rory had turned down food, not feeling hungry, and Aela had seized the opportunity.

"It is good to be around other females of our kind," the huntress said, looking down at Rory with a smile. Her long-fingered hands rested loosely on Rory's shoulders as she observed her.

Rory didn't know what to say to that. The woman was standing rather close to her; Aela was half a head taller than her with a longer torso, and the ancestral armor she wore exposed much of her body. Rory had a hard time not looking at her breasts, which were very noticeable.

She gave a half-smile to the redhead. Aela stepped even closer, her hands smoothing through Rory's loose hair luxuriously. "Your scent is remarkable, I must say. I do not think I have ever encountered anything like it. Will you permit me to take a closer study?"

Aela's scent was heady, filling the room. The heat of her body mingled with her smell. Rory felt almost hypnotized by it; likewise, her wolf was very still and quiet. "I suppose."

"Good," the other woman said approvingly, her voice low and smooth.

She leaned over Rory, bringing her head close to hers. Carefully, she moved Rory's hair aside and lowered her face to the side of her neck. Aela's breath tickled her skin as the huntress exhaled, blowing Rory's scent back into her nose. The other woman's hands held her head still as she examined her, fingers softly massaging through her tresses. Rory was surprised to feel the brush of Aela's mouth against her throat as she pulled back.

Eyes heavily-lidded, she looked down at Rory. "Extraordinary," she breathed. "What _is_ that?"

A flush had spread to Rory's cheeks, and her heartbeat thrummed at the close contact. "I'd rather talk about it later."

"Yes," Aela said, frowning slightly. "Aldric told us we are to meet him in the Underforge after the others have gone to sleep. That is a sacred place usually forbidden to those not of the Circle, but I think…I think for you, we will make an exception."

Aela's hands still held Rory's head, her thumbs brushing against her jaw below her ears. As if realizing what she was doing at the same moment Rory did, she released her softly. Their bodies were nearly touching, and she stepped back.

The cooler air surging against Rory's front served to snap her back to reality. She blinked, feeling as if she was rising up through a pile of warm blankets, and looked around.

"I think I'm going to rest for a while," she said, making for the door.

"Very well," Aela replied easily. "I will be here if you have need of me."

* * *

Rory closed the doors behind her, sagging against them for a moment. She had spoken to Tilma, who had caught her on the way out of Aela's bedroom. The kind old woman had led her to a large bedroom full of single beds where the junior members of the Companions slept.

Right there, amidst Njada, Athis, and a younger, dark-haired woman that Rory hadn't met, Lilly had claimed her own bed and was fast asleep. Tilma assured her that she slept close by and would keep an eye on the girl.

She had no choice but to agree. Lilly was deeply asleep, she could tell by the way her nose was buried in the corner of her pillow. And she couldn't very well sleep in Aldric's quarters with the two of them.

That was where she was now. She glared at the bed, still leaning against the doors. She knew that Aldric had no presumptions about how the evening would go if they were to share the bed. However, she still felt edgy.

Aldric had told her that the meeting in the Underforge would take place in the morning, instead, seeing as how he, Vilkas, and Farkas had had far too much to drink for serious talk. Annoyed, she'd left the gathering early.

Then she felt bad. Aldric hadn't seen his friends in a long time, and they were celebrating his return to Jorrvaskr. He was well within his rights to have a few drinks with them.

She pulled off her cuirass and trousers, folding them up to rest on a shelf in the wardrobe by the bed. Her boots were lined up fastidiously at the foot of the bed. She stood in the room, wearing only her smallclothes and a thin tunic, and decided to wash her hair.

Tilma had filled the washbasin with cool, clean water. She bent over it, pooling the water over her head with her hands until her hair was soaked. Working it with her fingers, she washed out the dust and dirt from the road. When she was done, she wrung out her long hair until it no longer dripped, and used a folded linen cloth from the table to wrap around it.

She sat cross-legged on the bed, running a brush through the snarls. Her hair was almost dry when she heard the outer doors of the sitting room open and close. There was some thudding and scraping, and then the bedroom doors opened. Aldric stood there, his hair slightly disheveled.

"Oh," he said.

Rory couldn't help but smile as she looked back at him. "You're drunk," she observed.

He shook his head. "No. Not quite. We quit drinking an hour or so ago."

Out in the hall, unsteady singing could be heard. The male voice rose and fell erratically as the singer made his way down the hall. He finished off the drinking song with a loud, belligerent whoop, and then there was silence as a door slammed.

Aldric looked embarrassed. "Vilkas had…more than I did."

Rory's smile turned into a grin. "Of course he did."

"Anyway. How did your talk with Aela go?"

It was her turn to look embarrassed. "Ah. It was…different."

He frowned. "Bad?"

"No," she said quickly. "She wanted to take my scent again, more closely."

Aldric seemed to understand. "Aela is very strong with her beast. She and Skjor, another Companion who fell, did not view the wolf as a curse."

She ran the brush through her hair again. "Why would anyone think of their wolf as being a curse?"

"Some don't adjust well to the beast blood," he explained. "They're distracted. Kodlak worried he would not be able to go to Sovngarde when he died. He did not want to spend eternity with Hircine in his Hunting Grounds."

"Oh." She looked up at him. "Do you feel that way?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't resent my wolf, though."

Satisfied, she dropped the subject. "I like Aela, though I think she might have gotten the wrong impression."

"What do you mean?"

"The encounter was…not unlike two potential mates," she recalled, feeling her cheeks burn.

He titled his head curiously. "Did she kiss you?"

"No. She might have, though."

"Huh." His eyes glazed over and a faint smile stole over his features as if he were imagining it. "That's out of character for Aela. As far as I know, she's not a lover of women."

She smacked his thigh with the brush. "She was polite."

"I'll bet."

"You wouldn't think it was so funny if Vilkas or Farkas had reacted that way," she pointed out, pulling more of her hair over her shoulder.

His face darkened so quickly it was comical. "They wouldn't."

"How do you know? If Aela reacted out of character, perhaps they would as well."

Instead of looking irritated, he looked thoughtful. "Maybe it has something to do with your hybrid scent. Perhaps the nature of it does something to other werewolves, and not just me."

Her face heated again. She was comparing the eroticism of the encounter with Aela to what had happened by the lake with her and Aldric. It was not difficult to imagine things quickly getting out of control.

Aldric seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Let's not test that," he suggested.

"No," she agreed.

She stood up and replaced the hairbrush in the end table. While Aldric bustled around behind her, she climbed into the bed. Pulling the covers up around her, she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again a moment later, the room was much darker. All the candles had been extinguished except for one small lantern across the room. She felt a presence behind her, and she rolled over.

Aldric stood on the other side of the bed, looking down at her. Her pulse caught in her throat as she registered he was wearing only a set of thin linen breeches. The soft lighting seemed designed to caress the swell of his muscles and the shadows on his body.

"I can sleep in the common room with the others," he offered, his face unreadable.

Part of her wanted to accept his offer and avoid dealing with her feelings. The other part of her was going to scream if he walked out of the room.

"It's fine," she said, her voice weak.

She had intended to roll over again, but she couldn't move. His eyes didn't leave hers as he pulled the covers back and slid into the bed next to her. His body was touching the length of hers, from her hip down.

Fully aware that he could sense her pulse hammering, she rolled and gave him her back, shutting her eyes tightly. She could still feel him behind her like a line of heat attached to her body.

Slowly, she began to relax. "It's been a long time since I've slept with another wolf," she admitted drowsily. "This is nice."

"Yes, it is," he answered after a moment, his voice deeper.

Aldric rolled onto his side near her. She could feel his breath on her shoulder. Sensing his uncertainty, she wriggled backward until his chest was pressed against her back.

For a long moment, he didn't move. Then he settled against her more firmly, his hips pressing snugly against her backside. His long legs molded against hers. Her body hummed with the close contact.

Without looking, Rory reached behind her and found his arm where it rested on his side. She drew it across her waist, and he obligingly tightened his arm around her until she was pressed even more securely against him.

She pulled his scent into her nose. He smelled of mead, and sweat, and leather, and the outdoors, and wolf—and underneath all that was the smell of his skin, a scent that was uniquely his.

He tucked his face into the back of her neck, nosing aside her hair. Enveloped in his warmth, his scent, and the feel of his soft breathing on her skin, she fell very deeply asleep.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Aldric woke up to the muffled sound of a door slamming. Groggily, he blinked and started to sit up, and then realized he was pinned by something.

He looked down. He was flat on his back, and Rory was laying half on top of him, her head resting on his chest. Her breath came deeply and slowly, tickling his chest hair.

Her arm was stretched across his waist. Aldric moved experimentally, and the arm tightened possessively. When he stopped moving, she moved her head back and forth on his chest, making a small sound. She was _nuzzling_ him, he realized with a grin.

"Rory," he whispered, shaking her slightly.

She grumbled and stretched, moving herself up so that her face was pressed into the crook of his neck. At the same time, she slid a leg between his. He could feel the heat of her pressed against his hip.

Smile fading with alarm, he realized that his body was rapidly responding to hers. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up curled around him while he was aroused. He sensed that would bring an abrupt end to any more nighttime cuddling.

"Rory," he said again. He gently shook her with the arm that was behind her back.

"Hmm," she murmured sleepily. Her breath was hot on his neck.

"Time to get up."

"Hmm," she repeated. Her hand drifted from his waist down to his hip, and then slowly slid across his abdomen. When it passed the invisible line below his navel where his skin began to grow softer, he jumped and sat up abruptly.

Ignoring her soft protests, he turned and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Trying to slow his breathing, he rested his elbows on his knees. There was almost nothing he wanted more in the world than for her hand to continue its curious exploration, but not while she was still half-asleep with their scents all mixed up. It would be like a trick.

He looked over his shoulder at her. She was lying back against the pillow, her raven hair a heavy sheath against the sheets.

Blinking at him slowly, she gave him a lazy smile. "Good morning."

After a short pause, he replied. "Morning."

She closed her eyes and stretched languidly. He turned away courteously at the sight of her breasts straining against the thin material of her top. "It's been _years_ since I've slept that well. Before Lilly was born, I think."

He had slept rather heavily as well, but he'd assumed that was due to the mead. "It's good we both got enough rest; we'll need it today."

He heard the frown in her voice. "The Underforge."

Chuckling, he stood up. "It won't be bad. I know them; they'll listen to us and give us fair consideration before answering."

"Are you sure about that?" She sat up. "Vilkas seems to have already made up his mind about you, and about me."

"I wouldn't worry about that, not after last night."

He'd spent a good few hours, into the late night, sharing drinks with the twins. It had taken a while, but Vilkas's hard exterior had finally cracked after enough mead. Soon enough, he was laughing along with Farkas and him. Aldric was almost certain Vilkas had been the one they'd heard drunkenly singing as he made his way to bed last night.

Rory looked unconvinced. "What if they say no?"

He rummaged in the drawers of the wardrobe next to the bed. "They won't."

"But what if they do?" she pressed, slowly losing her rosy, soft persona. "You have a back-up plan, right?"

"I don't need one." He located his wolf armor, neatly stowed underneath a pile of folded clothing. He looked up at her and then did a double take at her faintly horrorstruck expression. "What's the matter?"

"Aldric, you always need a secondary plan. You can't go through life just…not planning at all!" She scrambled out of the bed.

He smiled. "It'll be okay. If they do say no, for whatever reason, I'm sure I'll think of something."

Still shaking her head, she found her armor and began to dress herself.

* * *

An hour later, Aldric found himself in the Underforge, silently cursing at himself. He should have listened to Rory.

The conversation with the three Circle members had gone badly enough, trying to convince them of Rory's hybrid nature. He had realized that, unfortunately, Rory presented no outward signs of vampirism that would have proven her case. Besides her unusual eyes, she had nothing to offer them except the honesty of her words.

It had never once occurred to Aldric that she was lying—after all, he'd seen the evidence of the vampires that tried to take Lilly and kill her—but it definitely occurred to Vilkas.

He could not have been more wrong about how the man's mood would be today. The events of last night had convinced him that Vilkas had loosened up and shaken off his old resentment. He was sure that he would meet in the Underforge with his shield-siblings and find his old friend waiting for him.

Instead, he was met with the Vilkas that he had come to be familiar with over the past two years. Stony-faced, with cold eyes, he confronted Aldric with an unforgiving attitude.

"I'm sorry, Aldric," he said again. "I cannot, in good conscience, give my consent to your proposal."

To his right, Farkas looked to be going through some kind of emotional upheaval. He clearly wanted to side with Aldric, but his loyalty to his brother was strong. His turmoil was obvious on his face as Vilkas continued.

"What you are asking seems innocent enough," he said. "To take the little girl in for a time while you travel would not be out of the question, though an odd request. But you are asking us to shield a target of value to a group of powerful vampires. Have you forgotten where Jorrvaskr is, Aldric? I cannot—I will not—put Whiterun at risk. You've been away for the past year; you have not seen how they sometimes attack at night. I shudder to think what would happen if this clan were to become aware that the girl is with us.

Not all of us hold the power that Aela, Farkas, you and I hold—Athis, Njada, Torvar and Ria would fight valiantly but they would be killed. The vampires would hack their way through the city guard, and the townspeople that fought as well. You are asking me to be responsible for the lives of many people, not just one….and I cannot be."

Rory bristled beside Aldric. "Lilly is not a _target of value_," she spat. "She's an eight-year-old girl. The only way we can hope to end the threat to our lives is to leave her somewhere safe. We can't take her with us. It would mean her death if we did."

"And you cannot leave her here," Vilkas shot back, beginning to get angry as well. "Have you not listened to a word I've said?"

Aela had been silent the entire time. Aldric had almost thought that she was going to react badly at the news of Rory's unique condition, but she had taken it in stride.

She spoke up now. "Vilkas is right." Her voice rang out in the Underforge, overriding Vilkas.

"Aela," Aldric murmured softly, pleading.

"No, Aldric." She held up a hand to him. "His words are sound. Jorrvaskr puts the city at a tactical disadvantage. If these vampires were to find out Lilly was here, they would come in force. There would be much innocent blood spilled."

Vilkas gestured to her triumphantly. "You see?"

"But—" she cut him off. "Once you find a safe place for her, you have me at your back."

"What?" Vilkas demanded, shocked.

Aela tilted her head proudly at Aldric. "You have my teeth, and my bow."

"And you have my sword," came Farkas's quiet voice.

Vilkas whirled around to face his brother angrily. "Farkas! You cannot do this. It is folly."

"You may have acted as proxy for our Harbinger," Aela broke in, "but he has returned to us. He asks for our help now. Would you turn him away in his hour of need?"

She knew, the same way Aldric and Farkas knew, that the words triggered Vilkas's sense of pride. Looking torn, he turned his head away. "I don't know," he ground out.

"I don't know about you," Aela said to the twins, "but I have been itching for a real battle. Ever since we wiped out the Silver Hand, my spirit calls for blood and steel. It has been far too long. Bringing the fight to vampires seems like a worthy way to die."

"Speak for yourself," piped in Farkas. "I don't intend on doing any dying." The grin he gave was positively predatory.

"Stop, stop," Rory said suddenly, both hands up. Aela turned to her, surprised.

"What is it?" Aldric asked.

"We can't ask you to come with us and fight for us," she said, looking at Aela first, and then Farkas.

"You did not ask," Aela pointed out. "It was my honor to offer."

"I understand that," Rory licked her lips nervously, "but no. Thank you. No."

Aldric was inclined to agree with her. "This is different from the usual things the Companions do."

"Do not treat me as a child, Harbinger," Aela said good-naturedly, but her eyes flashed. "I understand the danger. It is what excites me. This is what I want."

"And you, Farkas?" Aldric asked.

The strapping man stepped forward, into the brighter light. "It is the right thing to do."

Vilkas made a sound of frustration. It wasn't quite a growl, but it held the shadow of his wolf. The night before, Vilkas had shared that he still practiced abstinence when it came to his transformations. Aldric wondered if that was the reason his beast showed itself so easily; now, and the previous afternoon the first time he'd met Rory.

"Vilkas," he said carefully, "I am not issuing a command. I don't ask anything of you—not as Harbinger, or as your shield-brother, and not even as your friend. I would not ask you to do this for me. There is no shame in turning this down."

"No shame?" Vilkas repeated hotly. "How can I honorably continue my life after today, knowing that I am the only one of the Circle that denies you?"

"There's no honor in this," Rory insisted.

"And you!" He rounded on her, thrusting his finger at her. "You act as if _you_ don't even want to do this."

"I _don't_ want to do this." She began to calm in the face of his anger. "I _have_ to do this. That is the difference between you and I, Vilkas. I have no choice. You do."

He paced away from her, muttering under his breath. "And let my family die without me? No. There is no choice there, either."

And with that, he turned and walked down the tunnel that opened up outside the walls of Whiterun. No one stopped him as he left.

The stone walls of the Underforge seemed to ring with silence for a moment or two. Only Farkas seemed to be calm.

"Is he always like this?" Rory asked, directing the question at no one in particular.

"Vilkas is hot-blooded," Aela allowed, "but not like this, usually. I believe he feels fear today."

Farkas stirred. "My brother is not afraid."

"I didn't mean he feels fear of battle, Farkas," the woman corrected. "I believe that Vilkas fears what this will mean for him. He has been avoiding the change since before Kodlak died. He knows he cannot avoid it any longer if he is to do battle with vampires. He fears how much he loves his beast, how he revels in it."

Farkas didn't argue with that.

"It's not wrong to love what you are," Rory said quietly.

"No, it is not." Aela gave her a warm smile. "I knew I liked you."

Farkas frowned as if unsure. "Kodlak said it made us weaker warriors, distracted us."

"And you know that the old man and I did not see eye to eye on that," Aela reminded him. "It only makes you weaker if you fight what you are."

"I don't want to debate this right now," Aldric sighed, rubbing his eyes. "This went terribly."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"Farkas, Rory," Aldric said, "May I have a moment alone with Aela? We'll be outside shortly."

Rory gave him a blank look as she followed the tall Nord out through the stone door. When it was done scraping and creaking into place, Aldric turned to Aela.

"I'm sure you can sense the other reason Vilkas resists," he said to her.

She folded her arms. "He fears and rejects what Rory is," she stated. "Vilkas is disgusted by her, but he won't say it out loud."

Aldric looked away. "Rory suspects."

"Her eyes miss nothing," Aela agreed. "Her heart, even less. I must say, Harbinger…you have found something special with her. The both of you are blessed by Hircine himself."

He mustered a weak smile for her. "If only you could convince her of that, then perhaps she wouldn't fight me the way she does."

Aela grinned. "Anyone could smell that you spent the night wrapped in each other's embrace. She would not allow that kind of touch if she offered you a fight."

"It's not that kind of fight," he said, but he returned the grin.

"Regardless, if she were to reject you as a mate, you would know it." Aela was confident. "Some women are more difficult to catch than others. You must not waver in your chase."

Aldric had the feeling she spoke from personal experience. If only Skjor were still alive, he could have a talk with the man. Skjor surely had valuable tips to give him on the subject of pursuing complicated women.

"Aela…" he started, hesitant. "I don't turn down your offer of help. It makes me grateful to know you want to fight with us. But I'll need to speak with Rory. For a while—perhaps a long while—we will be hunting information instead of prey. Will you wait here, at Jorrvaskr, until I send word to you?"

She considered his words for a moment. "I have faith in you, Harbinger. I do not have much patience for waiting, but I will do this for you."

He was relieved. "Thank you, my friend. Try not to bother Vilkas with this. He controls his own life and makes his own choices. I don't think less of him for not wanting to become involved."

Aela crossed her arms over her chest. "That may be so, but I am no longer inclined to view Vilkas as my moon brother. He may remain my shield-brother, but if he doesn't hunt with me, or fight with me, or run with me, then he cannot be part of my pack."

Aldric was interested. "Have you viewed the Circle as your pack, Aela?"

The woman seemed to blush a bit under her painted face. "The Circle is not a true pack," she admitted. "You and I and the twins are all dominant. Farkas is the least dominant of us, but he still qualifies. That would not be a problem in a true pack, but we do not have an alpha in charge. You, as Harbinger, come close, but we have not formed law. That is not the way the Companions work. A pack is not a democracy; it needs an alpha, a clear leader, in charge in order to survive."

It was not a secret that she had not agreed with Kodlak's views on the Circle's lycanthropy. Vilkas sided with him, and so did Farkas, but only because Farkas did what Vilkas did. Skjor had felt just as strongly as she did about their dual nature, but he had died. Aela was now alone and outspoken in her beliefs.

"Do you want a real pack, Aela?" he asked curiously.

She drew herself up. "Every woman in my family for generations has been a Companion. It is my honor to follow in that tradition. I may not be content with how things are in the Circle, but I would never leave the life I have here."

"I meant no offense," Aldric said. "I was only curious."

Aela shook her head. "Do not mistake my pride for offense. I have entertained the thought before. However, it would be difficult to join one now if I were to leave. I have not been born into a pack. I am, by nature, a lone hunter. Pack life would not suit me well."

"I see." Inwardly, Aldric was just now realizing how little he knew of wolf politics. Aela had been his forebear, and life in the Circle amongst the others was all he knew of coexisting with other wolves.

Aela seemed to notice his confusion. "Perhaps Rory could shed some light on the issue. Her mother was born into a pack and had family within. Even though she herself has not been part of one, no doubt her mother schooled her on what it is like."

"I might ask her about it," he agreed. "The information could come in useful during our hunt."

"Indeed." She stepped closer and placed her hands on Aldric's shoulder. "I wish you good fortune, brother. I will remain here at Jorrvaskr with Farkas until I hear from you. We will train. Farkas has been wolf for many years, but the time has come for me to teach him about what it is to truly do battle as his beast. He has long suppressed his true nature."

He nodded solemnly. "All wise things, Aela. I will send word as soon as I can."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Thank you to **dragonlorerd6**, **Springbox**, and **PrinceKeldar** for the follows/favorites! This chapter is a bit longer than my usual. Finally, a bit of action!

* * *

**Chapter 18**

The sun was setting in the Rift. Aldric began to move faster instinctively, and at the soft complaint behind him he was reminded he had to check his pace. He turned to see Lilly struggling along behind him.

On foot, the journey from Whiterun to Riften was rigorous for one person trying to make good time. Near Darkwater Crossing, the road sloped upward into the mountains for miles, the path jagged with switchbacks. The journey was difficult enough; adding a child to the mix meant that their pace was cut in half.

Lilly could trot alongside them for several miles, which was impressive on its own, but eventually she slowed to a casual walk. After that had happened, there was no way to make her speed up. No amount of Rory's cajoling, persuading, or commanding had influenced her.

Now, so close to Riften, her energy seemed to finally be giving out. It was impossible for Aldric to be short with her; after all, she had tolerated living on the road for the past two days and nights. The fact that the trip had taken twice as long as it usually took him was no bother to him.

Rory, however, was obviously frustrated with the pace. As they had entered the Rift, her defenses had clanged together again. The trees in the Rift were numerous, but not quite so dense as the forests around Falkreath. Because of the uneven ground, the trees made it difficult to see for any distance.

Unfortunately, though the woods were thinner, the dangers were not. Aldric was dismayed by the number of wolves, cave bears, and giant spiders they encountered. They had seen two trolls at a distance, but luckily the creatures had been too absorbed in a deer carcass to give chase.

"Slow down," Lilly complained behind him.

Rory had also noticed the light slowly beginning to fade. "Lilly, we are very close to the city. I'm not going to wait another godforsaken night in these trees. Just keep going, one foot in front of the other."

In response to that, Lilly simply sat herself down on the ground. She pulled off one boot and wiggled her toes in the evening air. "My blisters popped."

Rory knelt to examine her foot and swore softly. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"You get mad every time I want to stop."

Aldric looked over Rory's shoulder. Lilly had been plagued by blisters for the past day; angry red welts had covered the tendon behind her ankle, the ball of her foot beneath her toes, and on the side of her big toe.

"She's been walking on this for hours," Rory said under her breath. The blisters had been replaced by torn, bleeding skin. Her woolen sock was stained with blood, both old and new.

Aldric rinsed her foot with his water pouch and pulled out the same salve he had used for Rory's burn. He liberally coated each blister and then wrapped her foot tightly with cotton bandages. Lilly never made a peep.

He pinched the toe of her right foot, judging the space between her toes and the boot. "You need new boots, kid. These are getting too tight."

Rory felt for herself. "She grows too fast."

"That just means you're getting stronger every day," he told Lilly. She managed a small smile, though her chin quivered.

He pulled the boot from her other foot. Tying the shoes together by the laces, he handed them to Lilly. Then he picked the little girl up. She curled her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

Rory didn't look happy with the arrangement. "How long until we reach the city?"

"An hour, if we move quickly," he answered.

He set off down the road at a moderately faster pace. Rory spotted two spiders a hundred feet away from them, engaged in a territorial dispute. Two of her ebony arrows abruptly ended the spat.

"I don't like this land," she muttered.

He grinned, readjusting Lilly. "We've never even come close to danger, thanks to your bow."

"Yet."

Less than an hour later, the city was in sight. Aldric made his way up to the south gate. One of the guards recognized him, but it was not due to his esteemed reputation within the city.

"Guildmaster," the man said quietly out of the corner of his mouth.

Aldric said nothing, only nodded to him. Rory's perpetual scowl deepened.

Night had truly fallen by the time they entered Riften. The marketplace, normally bustling with activity, was deserted. A citizen wandered here and there, and guards with torches patrolled, but that was it.

Rory glanced around. "Quiet."

The closer they got to Honeyside, the home granted to him by the Jarl, the more the buzzing sound of many voices inside The Bee and Barb grew. "Only because everyone is inside there," he said, nodding to the inn.

Before they had left Whiterun, Aldric had sent a courier by carriage to Riften with a letter for Iona, his housecarl. He had informed her that he would be bringing two guests, one of which was a child.

Upon entering Honeyside, he was pleased to see that she had received the letter with enough time to make the changes. His enchanting table downstairs had been pulled out and placed in storage, along with the weapons on display.

The mannequin, dressed in the Thieves Guild armor he had received when he first joined, had remained—most likely the stoic housecarl's idea of a jest. Rory unceremoniously hung Lilly's boots around the mannequin's neck.

Aldric lowered the sleeping Lilly gently into the new child's bed that inhabited the room. As soon as she hit the mattress, she rolled to her side and clutched her pillow tightly.

"She needs a bath," Rory observed.

Aldric looked down at her peaceful face. "Go ahead and wake her up, then."

Rory watched her a moment more before shaking her head. "It can wait until tomorrow, I suppose."

"I don't think we can wait until tomorrow, however," he said, grimacing. Two days on the road had not been kind to them. The weather had been unusually warm and dry, with no rainstorms to rinse away the dust in the air.

"You're telling me." Rory plucked at her hair, which had been fashioned into a tight braid down her back. "I have more tangles than loose hair."

"The washtub is behind the home on the dock. It's relatively private, no one wanders by at this time of night."

Reluctantly, she turned away and gathered some of her things. Aldric heard Iona enter the house from upstairs and went to meet her.

The housecarl's appearance hadn't changed a bit in the year or so it had been since he'd seen her last. Her red hair was still fashioned into a short, utilitarian cut, and her steel armor was impeccably polished as always.

She gave him a stiff nod. "My Thane."

He smiled. Her formal demeanor hadn't changed either. "Iona. I was glad to see you received my letter."

"It arrived here early this morning," she replied. "Everything is to your liking?"

"Yes, thank you. We won't be staying long, though."

"Of course. I will be in my quarters if you need anything." With that, she turned and descended the stairs.

Of all the housecarls assigned to him, Iona was one that Aldric had spent the least time with. Whenever he was in Riften, he stayed in the Cistern, only stopping by the house to store or retrieve something. Iona was more formal and reserved than even Rayya, and seemed disinterested in forming a friendship with him.

He ate in front of the fire while Rory bathed. It wasn't long before he heard the doors to the porch opening and closing. She drifted into the kitchen, her long, black hair soaked.

She poured a small amount of oil into her palm and rubbed her hands together before smoothing it into her hair. Aldric watched, fascinated, as she worked the long mass of tresses.

"Stop watching me," she said without looking at him.

He chuckled and pushed the pot of stew toward her. "This is fresh. Eat up. I'm going to bathe and then we can head out."

"Where are we going? And don't you dare say it's a surprise. I've had quite enough of those for a while."

"We're visiting the Thieves Guild."

She gave him a faint look of surprise. "Why?"

"I'm the Guildmaster."

* * *

Before taking Rory into the Guild, Aldric stopped by the Bee and Barb to see if any of the guild members were inside. Finding that they weren't, he wasted no time and walked back outside to Rory.

She had taken the news as well as she could, considering the circumstances. After all, being a thief was certainly better than being an assassin—or a bandit who stole _and_ murdered—and he had assured her that despite being criminals, the Guild only stole from those that would not greatly miss what was taken.

Rory was talking to Edda outside. She had brought the woman a large bowl of the stew they'd ate for dinner, and he noticed a coin purse on top of a new thick, folded blanket next to her.

"Good evening, Edda," he greeted her.

"Good to see you again, Aldric," she said, smiling up at him. "Your friend here is very generous."

He grinned at Rory. "I see that. I'm glad she took care of you tonight. The nights are getting colder."

"They are," she acknowledged, "but it ain't nothing I can't handle."

A thought occurred to him. "Edda, have there been any vampire attacks here lately?"

She nodded as she took another bite of stew. "Sometimes. I heard whispers that there are lots of attacks in other holds, but not much here. Think the vamps are afraid of Riften, 'cause of being so close to Fort Dawnguard."

"Fort Dawnguard?" he repeated.

Edda looked taken aback. "You haven't heard about the Dawnguard?"

"No. I've…been away for a while. I haven't kept up with news." He looked over at Rory, who was staring at Edda with intense eyes.

The woman shrugged. "Heard the guards talking about it first. Guess it's some kind of vampire-hunting place. Used to be a big, old fort to the southeast, and they moved in there. Lots o' the men here hardly ever shut up about joining them. So eager to die."

"Anything else?"

Edda rubbed her chin. "Not that I can think of. Sorry, Aldric."

"No, you gave me good information. Thank you, Edda. I'll be by in the morning to check on you."

"G'night, friend." She waved them off as they took their leave.

"We need to go to that fort," Rory said to him urgently as soon as they were out of earshot.

"I agree. They may be able to give us information, even help."

"I can't believe this!" she whispered. "There's a whole faction of people that have organized to fight vampires." She looked shocked. "We may have more help than we ever thought we could get."

"Don't get so excited," he cautioned. "This 'Dawnguard' could be nothing more than a bunch of farmhands who have gathered some weapons and armor and declared themselves vampire hunters."

Rory didn't look deterred. "We'll see when we get there. We leave tomorrow, first light."

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a salute.

She squinted at him. "Now take me to your band of thieves."

* * *

Aldric chose not to take Rory through the Ratway to get to the Cistern. He didn't want to give her the wrong impression before she had a chance to meet everyone and see how things were. Leading her through an old sewer system with skeevers lurking in the shadows was unlikely to inspire good feelings.

So he took her to the concealed entrance in the graveyard. He let her watch as he pushed the heavy stone button on the false coffin. She hastily took a few steps back as the coffin began to retract into the small mausoleum. Stone grated on stone as it pulled back to reveal a short set of steps that ended at a trapdoor in the ground.

"That must come in handy when you're looking for a quick getaway," she said wryly, one brow arched.

He smiled tolerantly. "It's a way to be discreet."

"Of course it is."

She ignored his proffered hand and stepped past him into the small passageway. Once he was far enough in, he pulled the chain that pushed the coffin back into place, sealing them inside.

He opened the trapdoor and went down the ladder first. Vipir and Thrynn were standing near the entrance, fiddling with the offering of food on the nearby table. They turned at the sound of someone coming in and started to greet him enthusiastically.

"Aldric! It's been so—"

"Ha! Was starting to wonder—"

Both of them suddenly broke off as Rory hopped down from the ladder and brushed her hands off. Vipir's face was almost comical in its surprise, but Thrynn immediately assumed an expression of hostile suspicion at Rory's unfamiliar presence.

Aldric gestured to Thrynn. The ex-bandit had assumed the role of the Guild's enforcer, someone sent out to intimidate people who owed debts or to physically settle any problems. "It's fine, you can relax. This is Rory, and she's with me. I'm here to see Brynjolf; is he around?"

Thrynn's shoulders lost some of their tension, but his eyes never regained the smile he had sported upon seeing Aldric. "No, he's not here. Out again. Vex and Delvin are in the Flagon, though."

"Thank you, Thrynn. We'll be back shortly." He took Rory by the hand and started to guide her through the Cistern.

Seeing the Cistern restored to the way it used to be was still a sight that gave him satisfaction. Years ago, it had started out as a massive station where several sewer systems emptied out; since then, the old stone cavern had been furnished with new banners, rich carpets and throw rugs, and better furniture.

Water still flowed from tunnels overhead into the shallow lagoon in the middle of the space, but it was clean water from Lake Honrich. The low roar of the water, coupled with the earthy smell and the way voices echoed and bounced from the stone walls, proved to be a comforting memory for Aldric. He felt instantly at home inside the Cistern.

Rory looked around curiously, taking it in. "Interesting place."

He smiled, but noticed the stares she was generating. The two new recruits he had met after becoming Guildmaster were watching her from the corner; then Aldric realized that they weren't so new anymore. Cynric occupied a bed. Everyone else was out.

Inside the Flagon, it was like he had never left. Vekel was still pretending he was cleaning behind the bar, Vex and Delvin were still bickering quietly at a table in the corner, and Tonilia was still chatting with Dirge.

Just as with Thrynn and Vipir, all conversation came to an immediate halt when they noticed him. The pause stretched on and on until Rory cleared her throat next to him.

Delvin was the first to stand up and make his way over to him. "Well, well, do my eyes deceive me?" He winked at Aldric. "Good to see you, boss."

Then he turned to Rory. "And who do we have here? I've told you to stop bringing me runaway priestesses of Dibella as recruits, they're far too…_distracting_."

Aldric hid a laugh behind a cough at Delvin's mention of the religion focused on female sensuality. For a moment, he thought Rory would take it badly as she watched him with narrowed eyes.

Then, she gave a tiny smile. "No wonder you're located under a graveyard. You're old enough to be reserving one of the plots for yourself."

A loud cackle sounded behind Delvin. Grinning broadly, Vex came up alongside Rory. "Just for that, I'm going to buy you a drink."

Scowling, Delvin moved aside as the petite blonde thief pulled Rory with her. "Yeah, yeah, go giggle in the corner to each other, you little vixens." He sounded surly but Aldric caught the twinkle in his eye.

He turned to Aldric. "She's with you, then?"

"Yes, I brought her with me. She's not a recruit. We were looking for Brynjolf, though. Thrynn said he was out. Is he on a job?" Aldric asked.

"I see how it is, completely ignore the old codger," Delvin grumbled. "No, he's not on a job. I just figured he was…at the other place."

Aldric wasn't sure how much Delvin knew about the Nightingales, but he was sharp as a blade and unlikely to miss much. He didn't need to be outright told things to know them. He figured by 'the other place' that Delvin was referring to Nightingale Hall.

Aldric took an hour of passing around bottles of mead with everyone present, enjoying the stories they all had to tell. Rory went along with it, still sitting next to Vex at the bar. She had even finished her own bottle. He was pleased to see her fitting in so well.

When it was time to leave, Vex saw him approach and bluntly stated, "She's too good for you."

He looked at Rory. "I know."

Rory looked away. "You don't know what you're talking about," she muttered.

He smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. "It was good to see you again, Vex. We'll be back after I track down Brynjolf."

She pursed her lips at him. "You better be. It's hard to run things around here without the big, bad Guildmaster." As Rory stood up, she leaned into her and murmured, "Seriously, think about it."

Aldric pulled the chain once they had ascended the ladder again. As the coffin slowly began to open, he peered at Rory out of the corner of his eye. "What did Vex want you to think about?"

"Oh." She looked embarrassed. "She said she could sense that I had the skills they were looking for and wanted me to think about becoming a recruit. I said maybe."

He raised his brows. "Vex is hard to impress. She must have thought you looked dangerous."

"Right," she said dryly. She took off through the graveyard, following the path to the marketplace. She was about to say something else when a man's yell broke the stillness of the night.

Rory froze as the source of the yelling approached. A man was being backed into the yard by several city guards. He was dressed in poorly matched armor made of animal hide, sporting paint across his eyes. For a second, Aldric was confused. Why would a bandit be inside the city?

The bandit continued to fight off the guards, wildly swinging a war axe in each hand. The axe in his left hand slapped aside a sword and the axe in his right hand swung around to bury itself in the guard's head. The other guard met a similar fate only seconds later.

Teeth still bared in rage, the bandit turned around, searching for another target. His eyes lighted upon Rory and Aldric. He stalked toward them, both arms held up in the air. When the moonlight caught him, Aldric noticed his arms were dotted with small scars, the flesh along the inside of his biceps puckered with dozens of little marks.

The man broke into a run at them, and then stumbled with a grunt as an ebony arrow sprouted from his chest. He paused, as if he would gather his strength and continue on, and then another arrow sank into his throat.

Rory lowered her bow. The bandit sank to his knees and fell to his side. After a second, his body abruptly dissolved into ash. Bolts of energy flickered around the pile for a moment and then faded.

Aldric blinked. "Someone resurrected him. Just now."

There was more screaming, in the direction of the marketplace. Another arrow drawn, Rory sprinted alongside Aldric.

The marketplace was chaos. Chainmail and purple cloth flashed in every direction. It seemed like the entirety of the city guard had flooded Plankside. For a moment, Aldric watched with bewilderment.

Then he noticed what they were fighting. Black, muscular canines were snarling and snapping at the guards; even from this distance Aldric glimpsed their red eyes and skeletal faces. Between the creatures and the guards, more bandits were hacking and slashing recklessly.

Around the small stone wall bordering the marketplace, a man in gray robes was taking on three or four guards alone.

Rory stiffened suddenly. "Vampire," she hissed. As Aldric watched, the man held a hand up and red, pulsing energy seemed to bury itself in the chest of the nearest guard.

She raised her bow and lined up her shot. It took the vampire in the side, beneath his ribs. He staggered but did not go down. Before she could fire again, more guards swarmed and she lost the shot. She lowered to bow at the ground and made a sound of frustration.

The vampire's canines leapt straight over the retainer wall at Aldric and Rory. He jumped to the side, his hand going for his greatsword—and then he realized he had only brought his bow with him.

The dog skidded along the ground and righted itself, turning around to pounce at him again. Aldric was holding his bow but had no time to draw an arrow. Saliva dripped in thick ropes from the creature's fangs before it leapt at him again.

Gripping one of the bow's limbs in both hands, he swung it with all the force he could muster at the dog. It cracked against the side of the beast's head, knocking it off its path midair. The dog fell heavily onto the ground and did not get up.

Aldric looked down, expecting to see himself holding a broken bow. Instead, the dragonbone was untouched—not even a fracture. He grinned down at it.

He turned to look for Rory. She was nowhere in sight. The other canine creature was lying motionless on the ground where she had been, her ebony dagger driven deep into its skull.

Her voice across the marketplace alerted him. She was helping two guards fight off the vampire. Using a shock spell, the vampire sent one of the guards flying away from him, where he crashed into a wall.

The vampire's bandit took out the other guard. Aldric drew an arrow and sent it flying into the back of the man's skull before he could help his master against Rory.

Face contorted in rage, the vampire lashed out and grabbed Rory by the neck, pulling her closer to him. His fangs snapped at her face, yellow eyes flashing as he strove to bite her.

Rory raised her right arm in the air and twisted while she rammed it downward, using her elbow to break his grip on her throat. Before he could recover, she grabbed him behind the head with both hands and forced him to bend, driving her knee up to meet his face in a vicious blow.

Stunned, the vampire swayed backward, blood pouring from his mouth and nose. Rory was behind him almost too quickly to see. She hooked her arm around his head, coming up tight under his jaw. Snarling with effort, she braced her feet—and with a single, mighty twist, she ripped his head from his shoulders.

The body fell to the ground, hands twitching. Rory tossed the head away from her, where it rolled again and again before coming to a stop at the blacksmith's forge.

The fighting in the marketplace had ceased. The remaining guards were staring at Rory like they were trying to figure out if she was another threat. Aldric quickly crossed the open space to her side.

"Are you injured?" he asked, his fingers coming up to her neck.

She pushed his hands away. "I'm fine."

"Is she with you?" One of the city guards walked up to Aldric, his purple tunic partially ripped from his chest. Blood dripped from a bite wound on his arm.

"Yes, she's with me," he answered. "Get your arm looked at. I don't know what those things were, but they're not alive."

The guard raised his arm and looked at the injury like he was just now realizing he was hurt. "I'll do that," he said, sounding shaken.

Rory looked past him. "Edda."

Guards crowded the woman's small station. Two men knelt on the ground. As Aldric approached, he pushed his way through them to see Edda lying motionless, her eyes staring up at the night sky. The back of her head was caved in. Blood and thicker things pooled around her pale hair, washed to silver in the moonlight.

Jaw clenched, he turned away. He wrenched the headless body of the vampire to rest on its back, furiously digging through its pockets for any kind of hint or clue. There was nothing on him except a plain gold ring.

"They weren't here for us," Rory said. She looked around her. "They were just here to bring chaos to the town. Kill everyone or die trying. They're spreading fear. This is _fun_ to them."

Aldric looked at the bodies scattered across the ground of the marketplace. The smell of blood was acrid and solid in the air.

_Chaos, death, and fear_. If that was their goal, then they were succeeding.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **Big thanks to **Burgerinn**, **Grits 'n' Gravy**, **Cloudhand5**, **Pherenziz**, and **Verrokami** for the follows and favorites! **KK Jace**, I do believe you are my most dedicated reader.

Mild-to-moderate smut warning for this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Aldric walked to the south gate across the walkway. Rory followed him until he nearly made it to the gate, and then she stopped him with her hand on his elbow.

"I'm not leaving the city with Lilly alone."

"Iona is with her." He cut her off as she started to argue. "We're not going far. It's right outside Riften."

Outside the gates, things were peaceful. Night birds called to one another in the trees, and the air was damp and clean, coming off Lake Honrich. Several yards from the road, Aldric veered left. His feet shortly found the inconspicuous path.

Rory followed silently. He walked quickly, only pausing when they drew up before the massive black stone stationed outside.

"That's the same symbol on that armor in your cellar," she said, looking up at the old standing stone. The Nightingale insignia was carved proudly into the face. "The one you said was a secret."

Aldric nodded. "That's right. We're going inside."

He wasn't entirely certain of what was about to happen. Revealing secrets to Rory as the Guildmaster or the Harbinger was one thing; no one would openly dispute his authority or decisions. But he did not lead the Nightingales.

He strode across the brush and opened the door to Nightingale Hall without a second thought.

Rory followed him through the waist-high ferns inside. He picked his way carefully across the slippery, rocky floor. Torchlight flickered inconsistently throughout the tunnel leading into the main hall.

Rory paused as the tunnel widened. "This looks like the Cistern."

A waterfall tumbled through the cavern into a shallow pool. Stone and natural rock dominated the space. Aldric could see the comparison.

Wordlessly, he crossed the walkway to the living area set up in the middle of the Hall. Two beds and a small bookcase were all that rested against a wooden railing.

Then, his ears picked up the familiar sound of arrows thumping into a target. He followed the sound further into the Hall, until he rounded the corner into the training room.

A solitary archery target stood in the room. Others had once joined it, but they had been lost to old rubble fallen from the ceiling. The Hall had not been subjected to the same kind of improvements the Cistern had.

Karliah looked over her shoulder at his entrance. Her indigo eyes flicked first to him, and then to Rory. "Aldric….what…?" She trailed off and turned, lowering her bow.

"Hello," he said simply.

Karliah looked at Rory again. "_What_ are you doing?" she demanded. "You don't bring people here, Aldric, you don't bring _anyone_ here."

"Yes, I know, but—"

"But nothing!" she insisted. She stepped toward him, her low, husky voice beginning to stir with true anger. "What part of our secrecy did you not understand? If you wouldn't bring an outsider into the Cistern, then you shouldn't bring one here!"

"Actually," Rory interjected, "we just came from the Cistern."

Karliah turned to Aldric again. "You'd better have a damn good reason for doing this."

"First, I need to track down Brynjolf. Is he here?" he asked.

"He's sleeping. He stopped by after a long job and was tired." She gestured behind him. "Wake him and then find me in the room with the runes in it."

She pushed past him and stalked out of the training room, muttering under her breath. Rory stood aside to let her out and then shot a glare at Aldric.

"What are we doing here?"

"Trying to find somewhere safe to keep Lilly," he answered. "The Guild, like Jorrvaskr, is no place for children."

"And this is?" She gestured at the disarray around them. "This is a cave with some furniture inside of it. You haven't even made the effort to furnish it the same way the Cistern is."

He couldn't argue with that. Karliah had had no desire to upgrade anything about the Hall when everything was said and done. Aldric had the feeling she didn't spend very much of her waking time here, and that she cared little for outward displays of wealth.

Brynjolf had taken to bunking in the small bedroom opposite the hall from the training room. The quarters were exactly as stark as the rest of the location. When Aldric poked his head inside, he found the other thief sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling on his boots.

"Can't get anything past you, can we?" Aldric offered a half-smile to his friend.

Brynjolf shook his head, eyes still tired. "She may have a voice like summer rain, but it carries when she's angry."

Aldric smiled wider. "Do you make her angry often?"

"Only when I can help it."

A few moments later, Brynjolf emerged from the room, trying poorly to stifle a yawn. He stopped mid-motion when he caught sight of Rory. "So _you're_ what got the lass riled up."

Rory blinked slowly at him. "I didn't force my way in here at knifepoint. This one brought me." She jerked her thumb at Aldric.

Brynjolf gave a low laugh. "Aye, I bet he did, and without telling you a thing about this place, I imagine."

"I'm starting to think he likes to watch what happens when I'm confronted with the unknown." Rory looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Aldric does like to watch, you know. He's a right pervert." The red-haired man grinned at her.

Rory rolled her eyes at him.

"Do you know," Brynjolf started, using his hands to describe something, "one time, I actually caught him—"

"Moving right along," Aldric interrupted, physically pushing his friend down the hall. "Karliah's waiting."

Normally when Brynjolf deployed his trademark charm, women responded instantly. There would be blushing and giggling. But this time, it seemed to bounce off Rory right back onto Brynjolf. The harder he tried, the less it worked, which made him try even harder.

Karliah was standing in the middle of the room where he had taken his oath to become a Nightingale. This time, she did not wait on one of the glyphs. She turned when Brynjolf and Aldric entered.

"Where's the woman?" she asked.

"She's waiting in the main hall."

"Good." She rounded on him, her small hands clenched into fists. "Now explain."

He looked sidelong at Brynjolf. The man had lost his joking demeanor. "I don't know any other way to put it. The woman I brought with me is named Rory. She is the product of a vampire father and a werewolf mother."

The slim Dunmer stared at him. "You mean to tell me she's a hybrid."

"Yes." He spread his hands. "That's only part of the story, though."

As he told the story to the two Nightingales, Brynjolf's face became more and more stony. Aldric didn't think he'd ever seen him so serious since what had happened two years ago when he met Karliah.

When he was finished speaking, the silence in the room stretched on. Aldric waited, trying to fight back his suddenly growing nervousness. He hadn't felt this way when he spoke to Vilkas, Aela and Farkas.

He didn't necessarily believe Karliah was exactly _smarter_ than the Companions, but Aela and the twins relied on different parts of their minds, the parts that had to do with wordless instinct and battle. Karliah relied on her knowledge and razor-sharp skills to avoid her own death for twenty-five years. She saw the world through different eyes.

"The only reason I believe you, Aldric," Karliah finally said, "is because you are one of the most honest people I know. I don't believe you'd try to trick me. Does this all have a point? Why did you bring the hybrid to the Hall?"

Aldric let out the breath he'd been holding. "We need somewhere safe to keep her sister. She's eight years old, Karliah, and the vampires her father was aligned with are after her. We cannot find them and fight them with the girl."

Karliah frowned. "Why would you choose us, Aldric? Of all the people you know, all of those who have pledged themselves to you?"

"We've already visited the Companions in Whiterun," he said.

"And?"

"They turned us down. They're more than capable of defending Lilly, but ultimately they would not be strong enough to survive an attack if they came in many numbers. They would destroy the city, Karliah. Have you seen what's been happening lately? There are attacks all over Skyrim." Aldric paced. "I've just come from Riften. We helped the city guard fight off an attack. Edda was killed along with several guards."

"_Aldric_." Karliah's voice was low with disbelief. "What in Nocturnal's name makes you think Brynjolf and I, just the two of us, are capable of something that the entire company of the Companions are not?"

"Because I've changed my mind about what's needed," he said simply. "If I can't muster sheer force to fight head-on against a whole host of powerful vampires, then what is my other option?"

"Stealth," she whispered.

He looked her dead in the eye. "Who else in Tamriel is better suited for that than the Nightingales?"

Karliah was silent, looking at the floor.

Brynjolf spoke up. "Lad, we're not babysitters. We have things we need to do, duties we need to fulfill."

"I risked Nocturnal's wrath by bringing Rory into the Hall." Aldric fought to keep his voice level. "I risked our secrecy to ask for your help. I'm not sure where to turn if you deny me. Help me with this, and I promise I will destroy them."

"And what if they destroy you?" Karliah asked quietly. "If you die, what are we supposed to do with the girl?"

"I'm not going to die."

"You can't know that, Aldric!"

"After all the man has faced, you have to admit, Karliah—he's not likely to be taken out by an angry bunch of bloodsuckers," Brynjolf pointed out, gently teasing.

She didn't smile. "This isn't funny, Brynjolf."

"I know it's not."

The Dunmer thief looked up at Aldric, her eyes resigned. "Your argument is logical. I would have done the same thing, had I been you. But I don't know if I can do this, Aldric. I've only been around children a few times, and they seem to be rather an unpleasant lot."

He chuckled. "Lilly is different. I think you'd like her."

Karliah pursed her lips, looking away. "Return tomorrow night. We need time to think about this."

"Aye, lad." Brynjolf clapped a hand on Aldric's shoulder. "Even you can agree that's fair."

"I can," he said. "Would you like to talk to Rory?"

"I don't know." Karliah looked reluctant. "She seems like a female Mercer Frey, if you ask me."

Brynjolf laughed loudly, tossing his head back. Aldric couldn't help but join in a little. He couldn't deny that she shared some qualities with the former Guildmaster, her perpetual scowl being one of them.

Brynjolf wiped at the corner of an eye, still smiling widely. "Ah, in another time, before everything happened, it would be very interesting to see what would happen if the two of them had met."

Aldric started to disagree, and then thought about it. It _would_ have been interesting.

* * *

When they left Nightingale Hall, it was sprinkling. The sprinkling rapidly turned into a downpour once they hit the road, however.

Rory ran so quickly to the gate that he actually did a double take. One second she was there, and the next she was standing under the stone overhang that stretched above the gate.

"What was that for?" he called over the sound of the rain pelting the ground.

Her mouth moved, but he couldn't hear her.

"What?" he moved closer to her. The storm was quickly becoming impressive in its strength.

"I said, I don't like to get wet in the rain," she repeated crossly.

"Why not? It's nice." He held a hand out to catch some of the drops.

"My hair takes too long to dry."

He reached out and pulled some of her hair toward him, combing his fingers through the tendril he held. His calloused fingers caught on the softness of it.

One of the gate guards made a sighing sound. Aldric had completely forgotten that they were only a few feet away from them. He cleared his throat and pushed through the gate, Rory close behind.

She quickly overtook him in her rush to find shelter from the rain. Aldric slowed as he passed the marketplace. Edda's body had been moved somewhere, but her station on the ground remained. A large, dark stain marked the mat she usually sat on.

Pushing past his growing anger, he jogged the rest of the way to Honeyside. Rory was already inside, shaking her hair out in front of the fire. Iona had retired for the night, and the small house was completely quiet.

He started to undress in the bedroom, the fatigue from their journey and the day's events suddenly hitting him hard. As he lowered himself into the bed, he wished he could hear what Karliah and Brynjolf were talking about right now.

Rory strode in and quickly removed her armor. She slipped into the bed and immediately pressed herself against Aldric like she was trying to climb inside of him, entwining her legs with his. He jumped when he felt her feet, cold as ice, touch his calf.

"You're warm," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Her damp hair slid over his forearm. "You're not."

"It's the rain. I get chilled easily."

He rolled on his side so that they were facing, wrapping his arm around her back and holding her to him. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck the same way she'd done a few mornings ago.

Her lips moved against his neck as she spoke. "Would it be completely inappropriate for me to kiss you right now?"

Aldric's heart skipped a beat. "No. But then, I may be a little biased…"

She laughed, her voice vibrating against his skin. Then he felt her lips move again, this time without speaking. She worked her way across his neck until she reached the side of it. He had a moment to feel the wetness of her mouth and the heat of her breath, and then she bit him.

Her teeth were gentle against him as she gathered his skin between them. He sucked in a sharp breath, his beast rising. When she bit down harder, just shy of real pain, his arms convulsed around her and a groan left his mouth.

She pulled back enough to look at him. "You like that," she said, her voice dark.

He took her face in his hands and brought his mouth to hers. She stiffened in surprise, and then relaxed against him. Aldric's lips worked furiously against hers, and suddenly his tongue was in her mouth. Rory's hands were helplessly stroking his chest.

_Too much, too fast_, he thought dimly, but couldn't make himself stop.

She started to roll onto her back, and her hand pulled at his shoulder, inviting him to follow. Without hesitation, he smoothly rested himself on top of her. She nibbled at his mouth and moved her legs further apart, and he settled his hips between them.

Aldric broke the kiss and moved down to her throat. "Do you want me to bite you?"

Her hands tangled in his hair. Taking that as a positive sign, he licked slowly along her skin, searching for the right spot. His mouth latched onto her neck and sucked, and when she shakily released a breath, he grazed her with his teeth.

She bucked against him with her hips at the touch. He nipped at her neck lightly, exploring his way across her throat. Finally, he picked his moment and opened his jaw, biting down on the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

The sound she made was exquisite. She ground against him again, feeling that he was hard, and he started to respond. Aldric began thrusting against her with each new swipe of his tongue and gentle bite, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He kept up the motion as he kissed her again. Her breathing was coming in gasps and she dug her nails into the muscle of his back. Nothing separated them but his linen breeches and her flimsy smallclothes, and at one strong roll of his hips, he very shallowly entered her.

Rory ripped away from his mouth, scrambling out from under him. Her eyes were wild, and a fine blush stained her cheekbones.

"Too much?" he asked her, out of breath.

Her eyes dropped down to look at him. His breeches did nothing to conceal his condition. "I can't do this. This is why I've been avoiding this. I can sense myself completely losing control when you touch me."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing." He couldn't look away from her mouth, which was flushed red and swollen.

"I want to be alone with you when it happens," she said firmly. "Not here."

So it _was_ going to happen. "You're right. I've forgotten all about Iona and Lilly."

"So did I." She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm going to bunk with Lilly."

Aldric touched her knee. "You don't have to do that. I'll behave myself, I promise."

"I have to go. I'll see you in the morning."

He watched her leave the room without looking back at him. His pulse still elevated, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.

Aldric knew he should be worried about the distraction this posed to him. They couldn't afford to be caught off guard because they were too busy rolling around in bed.

At the moment, however, he was drowning in the remembered feeling of her body under his, her lips, and the way his back still stung from her nails pressing into his skin.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **Thank you to **Mr. Mookenstein** and **Rann Organa** for the follows/favorites.

This chapter was an emotional one to write. For the ending, I was listening to "Stubborn Love" by The Lumineers.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

She was back in the house. Their house. It was on fire again, except she was trapped inside, on the first floor.

Flames as tall as she was gusted and billowed in the hot air. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes as a beam from overhead wrenched itself from the ceiling and hit the floor with an explosion of sparks.

She could barely keep her eyes open in the heat. There was a perfect circle around her feet where the fire did not encroach. Every time she thought a flame would breach the barrier, it hissed and pulled back.

A movement caught her attention. She squinted, looking through the inferno stretched before her. Across the room, back against the wall, a tall figure stood.

Her stomach clenched at the sight. She couldn't see who it was, but suddenly she was afraid. The figure came closer, but as it moved, its body shifted and rolled in ways that weren't normal.

It was a man, a vampire transformed into his beast. Stronger than average, with gray-green skin stretched tight over hard muscles, he towered over the tallest flame. Clawed wings grew from his shoulder blades, framing his body on either side.

The bones in his face stood out starkly. He seemed to have many more teeth than was necessary, fangs prominent between his lips.

The fire parted for him as he stepped forward. She couldn't move. As his eyes stared into hers, she found herself losing the desire to get away from him. He grabbed at her shoulders and gathered her close to him, his wings securely pinning her.

His fangs, both upper and lower, pierced her neck. As she felt them slide into her skin, she screamed. It was not entirely a cry of pain. She clutched at his waist as he began to swallow her blood.

When he let go of her, she collapsed to the ground. Blood coursed from the wound he'd made, flowing down her chest. She looked up to watch him bend over and pick something up from the floor.

Time nearly came to a halt as he turned. He held Lilly in his arms. She was unconscious or worse, her body limp. The vampire let her watch for a moment, and then he dropped her into the flames. They surged around her small body, eagerly flaring at a new source of fuel, and hid her from sight.

She screamed over and over again, the sound tearing raggedly from her throat. The vampire strode backward through the fire, back from where he'd come, his eyes steady on her the whole time. The wound on her neck began to burn, like the fire had entered her body.

Rory came to suddenly, gasping. She was covered in a cold sweat. Trembling, she looked to the side, where Lilly still slept peacefully. Unblinking, she stared at the slow rise and fall of her chest for a long moment.

_Alive_.

Her body took a long time to cease its shivering. She felt frozen, her hands and feet so cold it was painful. She rolled to her side on the narrow bed, careful not to jostle Lilly.

The candle she had lit on the small table next to the bed had barely burned down an inch. She must have been asleep for less than an hour. At the memory of being so savagely bitten in the dream, her neck gave a pang. She felt it, shaking fingers brushing over the spot that Aldric had bitten.

It was pleasantly sore, not ripped open and bleeding. He had been gentler with her than she'd been with him. He'd almost certainly have a mark to show for it in the morning.

The fact that this was the first nightmare she'd had since she had slept away from Aldric did not escape Rory. She had barely closed her eyes before immediately falling into one, the worst one she could remember in months.

Closing her eyes, she looked inside of herself and felt for her wolf. She was there, just below the surface. The dream had shaken her as well. She didn't understand what it meant, but she understood fear and the urge to protect family.

Rory stood up and walked out of the bedroom, climbing the steps silently. Aldric was sprawled in his bed on his front, arms shoved under his pillow. The sheets had been pulled down around his waist, exposing his back. His skin gleamed in the lantern light.

She crawled into the bed, laying her cheek against that smooth skin. When that wasn't enough, she moved up and pressed her face into his hair. It was warm with his heat and soft, tickling her nose as she inhaled his scent.

Aldric stirred, feeling her behind him. He lifted his head and looked at her blearily. "Something wrong?"

"No," she whispered. Nothing seemed to be wrong when she was this close to him, their skin touching. Even the terror she'd felt in the dream seemed to disappear.

She moved onto her side, away from him. Knowing what she wanted, he cradled her from behind the same way he'd done the first night they'd spent together. He pulled the blankets up over them and then curled his arms around her, locking her in his embrace. Instead of feeling trapped, her mind began to float away in sleep again.

Safe. She was safe.

* * *

Something hit her in the head. Rory jerked out of sleep reflexively, leaning away. She squinted in the daylight filling the bedroom. Lilly was sitting cross-legged next to her in the bed where Aldric had been.

Lilly reached out and poked her in the forehead again. "Are you going to wake up at all today?"

Rory swatted her hand away, groaning. "What time is it?"

"It's after noon."

She blinked, trying to force herself to wake up faster. "Where's Aldric?"

"He went to go buy some things. He measured my feet before he left." Lilly moved her bandaged foot.

"Oh, that's right," she remembered. "You need new boots. How are your blisters?"

Lilly let her pull the bandages away. The torn skin had mended itself. All that remained of the painful sores was a faint pink circle around the worst one. Rory rubbed her thumb over one of them.

"Does it hurt at all?" she asked.

"No." Lilly rolled to her knees. "I can't wait for my new boots!"

Rory winced, thinking of what it would be like to break in new boots on the road. Hopefully, she wouldn't need to do that if she was going to be staying with the Nightingales.

She looked up at Lilly, making up her mind. "It's time for a bath," she said.

Lilly's face fell.

* * *

Bathing Lilly was like trying to bathe a wild dog. She insisted on Rory washing her hair for her, but then fought against her ministrations. Rory dumped a pitcher of water over her head unceremoniously. Lilly spluttered and glared at her over her shoulder.

She picked up the container of soap. "You want to do it yourself?"

Lilly turned back around without a word.

The soap Rory had found in a cupboard by the washtub was expensive and pretty, wrapped in delicate paper. It smelled like snowberries. She broke off a piece of the bar and rubbed it between her palms until it softened. Then she massaged it into Lilly's hair.

A breeze lifted off the lake, and the leaves of the trees on the shoreline rustled with movement. Water lapped against the small dock the washtub rested on. The day was warm, and quiet, save for the distant shouts of dockworkers across the way.

Lilly huddled in the water. The tub came up far enough to give her privacy if anyone happened to walk by, but she still shrank down. When Rory was done washing her hair, she rinsed her head clean. The water in the tub had already turned a murky gray with the dirt washed from Lilly's body.

"Time to get out," she said.

She picked up a blanket and stretched it out. As Lilly stood up from the water, she wrapped it around her securely. Before Lilly could go up the steps to the doors, Rory brandished a comb and a small bottle of oil.

"Oh, no!" Lilly immediately protested, backing up. "I don't have any tangles!"

Rory blocked her escape. "Yes, you do. I'll be gentle, I promise."

Grumbling, Lilly sat down on the edge of the dock, letting her feet trail in the water. Rory settled herself behind her and smoothed a few drops of oil into Lilly's hair. It was starting to get long, drifting past the middle of her shoulder blades.

Gently, Rory worked the prongs of the comb through her hair, easing the tangles apart. Lilly was quiet as she worked, until she noticed the clean clothing Rory had laid out for her next to the tub.

"What's that for?" she asked, the frown evident in her voice.

Rory glanced over. She had chosen soft brown leggings, the leather smooth as butter, and a long-sleeved top that was a blue reminiscent of a cloudless sky. She knew the color set off Lilly's eyes and hair prettily.

"I want you to look nice today," she replied. The comb moved easily through Lilly's hair now.

"Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes. We're going to meet some more of Aldric's friends." Rory set the comb down and helped Lilly up.

"Oh." The uncertainty in her face vanished. "I like Aldric's friends. They're nice."

Rory ran her fingers through Lilly's hair. It was starting to dry in loose waves around her face. "I'm glad you like them."

Lilly stared up at her for a moment. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

She turned away from her, pulling the stopper out from the bottom of the tub. Water began to stream out back into the lake. "Get dressed, please. We'll put your new boots on when Aldric gets back."

Lilly picked up her clothes and went upstairs. When Rory heard the door open and close, she let out the breath she'd been holding. Her hands trembled, and she grabbed at the tub, knuckles whitening as she gripped the metal.

_You can do this._

* * *

That day as the sun began to go down, Rory watched Lilly eat her supper. She kicked her legs against the chair, her boots knocking against the wooden legs. Lilly had been very pleased with Aldric's selection of dark brown leather with slim buckles at the ankle. They rose nearly to her knees. She hadn't taken them off once since he'd returned. Rory suspected she might sleep with them on.

She busied herself with packing their things. Aldric had confirmed that if the Nightingales turned them down, they would be leaving Riften in the morning. Her things had remained untouched in her pack, but Lilly had scattered all of her belongings in her bedroom.

Her clothes were still new, not yet soft to the touch. Aldric had wanted to buy their things, but she had insisted on selling her old ebony bow. It reminded her of her parents, but it was not the first bow she'd ever had, so she let it go easily. The craftsmanship had held up for over fifty years, but she could admit she needed a new one.

The money she'd gotten from the bow was just enough to buy new clothing for the two of them. She had purchased two other things for Lilly that she had been saving for this moment. One was an ebony dagger like hers. She ran her finger over the blade, testing its sharpness, and slipped it inside its sheath before inserting it in Lilly's small pack.

The other was a stuffed cloth doll. Lilly had had one that her mother had made many years ago when Rory was a child. Rory had never taken to it, but her mother had stored it in a chest—intending, Rory believed, for any grandchildren she might have in the future. Lilly had found it and promptly fallen in love with it. It had been lost to the fire.

The new doll was as close as she could get to the original. She had brought a drawing to one of the merchants in the marketplace, Brand-Shei. The Dunmer man, a friend of Aldric's with kind eyes, had assured her he could make something for her. His nimble fingers had stitched the doll together right in front of her.

Rory stroked the doll's black hair, made of yarn. She had painted a small, red heart on the doll's chest. Carefully, she tucked the doll into the pack, on top of Lilly's folded clothes. She closed the pack and secured the buckle.

Lilly was excited on the walk out of Riften. She peppered Aldric with questions about who they were going to be meeting and where they lived. He answered to the best of his abilities. She skipped and danced around him as they went.

Rory walked silently down the road behind them. Aldric had sensed her mood and was giving her the room she needed. He hadn't tried to pry, only squeezing her hand as they left the city behind him.

Lilly gasped when she saw the stone bearing the Nightingale insignia. "Wow!"

Aldric smiled. "Do you like it?"

Lilly nodded. "What's that symbol mean?"

"That symbol stands for my friends, the Nightingales. I'm sure they'll tell you all about it when we get inside," Aldric told her.

Actually, Rory was certain Karliah was not expecting them to bring Lilly. Yesterday, Aldric had left her in the living area of the main part of the hall, thinking Karliah would want the privacy. What he didn't know was that she had no trouble hearing every part of their conversation.

She had come to the conclusion that the only real chance they had of Karliah accepting them was to bring Lilly. She wanted the Nightingale to look in her eyes, to meet her and see who she was before she said no. Aldric had disagreed, but hadn't prevented her from bringing Lilly.

Aldric entered the Hall, and Rory followed him with Lilly bringing up the rear. She turned around, making sure she found the way in the dim lighting. Lilly's hands trailed through the soft ferns as she followed.

Brynjolf and Karliah were waiting for them in the common area. Karliah was still dressed in her Nightingale armor, and Brynjolf had changed from his Guild armor into his own Nightingale attire. Rory wondered if that was to signify that they stood together on something. It didn't feel positive.

Karliah visibly started when she saw Lilly walking behind Rory. She recovered quickly, but when she made eye contact with Rory, it was obvious that she was taken aback.

"Aldric…Rory," she greeted them. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest.

"Evening, Karliah. Brynjolf." Aldric nodded at the two of them.

Lilly drew up shyly, hiding half of her body behind Rory. Rory looked down, resting her hand reassuringly on her head.

"Is that…the girl?" Karliah asked, her discomfort apparent in her voice.

Rory nodded patiently. "This is my sister." She nudged her forward.

"Hi." Lilly's voice was tiny. "I'm Lilly."

Karliah looked down at her, her violet eyes moving back and forth as she looked into Lilly's eyes. She watched her for a moment. "My name is Karliah," she finally said quietly.

Brynjolf moved forward. "Of course you already know who _I_ am," he said, his voice confident.

Lilly shook her head.

"_What?_" he exclaimed in mock outrage. "You mean to tell me this horse's arse didn't tell you a thing about me, his partner-in-crime?" He gestured to Aldric.

Lilly looked over at Aldric, smiling.

"Well, my name is Brynjolf. I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Lilly." The man gave her a deep, respectful bow, his right fist over his heart.

"Are you guys really partners?" she asked him. Her voice was slowly losing its intimidated nature.

"Oh, in many adventures!" Brynjolf assured her. "I have some incredible stories to tell you, lassie."

"Are you a good storyteller?" Lilly looked up at him.

Karliah rolled her eyes. "He likes to think so."

"Excuse me," the thief interjected, looking at her, "storytelling is one of my hidden talents." He looked back at Lilly. "I am a _very_ good storyteller. You'll feel just like you were there."

He started to tell her about something involving Aldric and an escaped chicken. Rory felt eyes on her, and looked up to see Karliah gazing at her. There were many things in her eyes, but Rory was sure of one thing—Karliah had started out this meeting ready to tell her no.

And now the answer was different.

Rory held the Dunmer's gaze. She wanted to say so many things to her, but couldn't find the words. She gave the woman a deep nod. Karliah wordlessly returned it. Aldric was silent.

Rory knelt behind Lilly, her hand on her back. Brynjolf noticed the look on her face and stood up, stepping back to stand next to Karliah again. Lilly turned around, grinning broadly at the story she'd been listening to.

When her eyes found Rory's, the joyful look dropped. "What's wrong?"

"We're going to have to go now," she told her. She had instinctively sensed that the longer they stayed in the Hall, the harder it would be for Lilly to let them leave.

"I don't want to go, I like Brynjolf and Karliah," she objected.

Rory forced a smile. "You get to stay here, lucky. They've agreed to let you stay with them for a little while. Maybe they'll even let you become an honorary Nightingale."

The change in Lilly's face was startling. All at once, she realized this was it. Her eyes grew wider and her chin quivered slightly, but she held her tears back. "Oh. You'll come back, right?"

Rory's smile slipped. _You can do this._ "Of course."

Lilly knew her voice was off. She stared down at Rory, her lips pressed tightly together. She looked scared.

Aldric knelt next to Rory, putting his hand on Lilly's shoulder. "We'll be back as soon as we can, Lilly. I want you to know that I will protect your sister with my own life. I will not let anything happen to her."

Lilly's huge eyes flicked to him. She looked at him for a minute, and then seemed to decide something. She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I believe you."

"That's a good girl." Aldric carefully gathered her in his arms, hugging her. Lilly laid her head against his shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. Two tears glistened on her eyelashes and dropped to the leather he wore with a pattering sound.

Rory's throat tightened. She moved forward and wrapped one arm around Lilly and one around Aldric. "We'll be back before you know it," she whispered, her voice thick.

When they pulled back, Lilly shook, ever so slightly. Rory reached behind her and set Lilly's pack down between them. She reached up and took Lilly's hand.

Turning it so that her hand faced upward, Rory closed her eyes and planted a kiss on her palm. Then she moved the hand so that it rested against Lilly's cheek. "Whenever you miss me, all you have to do is this. My kiss will always be right there."

More tears rolled down Lilly's face, one after the other.

Rory held out her own palm. "Now do mine." After Lilly kissed her palm, she brought her hand up to her own face. She closed her eyes, deeply breathing in Lilly's scent.

Everything about the day that had spent together flashed in Rory's mind. Her hands through Lilly's hair, rubbing her dry with the blanket, tying her new boots for her. The way her eyes sparkled in the light of the sunset, the way her cheeks were still soft with the last vestiges of babyhood. The way Lilly's small fingers fit into hers whenever they walked together.

A memory she hadn't thought of in years came up suddenly: the first night after Lilly was born. Rory held her securely in her arms, feeling the healthy weight of her. Her heart was breaking from their mother's death, and as she cried, the baby looked up at her calmly with eyes that looked just like hers. Her tiny hand, no bigger than a coin, suddenly latched onto one of her fingers with surprising strength.

_You can do this. _

She opened her eyes to see Lilly, eight years later, looking back at her with those eyes.

"Be brave," Aldric reminded Lilly, his voice soft.

She nodded, her palm still clasped to her face. Rory kissed her forehead and then stood up, swiftly moving away.

Before she turned, she thought Karliah's eyes glistened as well. Brynjolf watched them sympathetically. "We'll take good care of her," he said.

Aldric found Rory's hand with his own. "We'll be in contact soon."

Rory let him lead her from the Hall. She stumbled up the path and out the door. When the night air hit her face, she sucked in a breath like she'd been underwater.

She turned to Aldric. The fear that she would never see Lilly again finally won the battle, washing over her mind and body. Shaking, she leaned into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. A strange, half-wailing sound ripped from her chest. She heard herself only distantly. Her knees lost their strength, but the tightness of Aldric's arms around her held her up.

Something inside of her broke. He never let go.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **Thank you to **SirronRocks**, **jpuga96**, **watwashalan**, and **Valerianus** for the follows and favorites. I also want to give a very special thank you to those who reviewed; **VealMaster**'s words just about gave me a heart attack. Reviews like that are magical and give me such a boost...they make me want to do even better for you guys.

You all have given me an incredible gift with your readership. I value each and every one of you tremendously.

Now, onto the chapter! I was a little nervous about uploading this one due to (whispering) *smuttiness*. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 21**

Aldric looked sidelong at Rory out of the corner of his eye. He didn't want to let it show, but he was starting to worry about her. She hadn't said a word since they'd left Riften two days ago.

He understood why. She was afraid that she would never see Lilly again, that she'd be killed while trying to eradicate the vampires that were hunting them. In his letter to Brynjolf and Karliah, he had indicated that Lilly was to be delivered to Jorrvaskr if neither he nor Rory came back for her.

He had also directed them to look in the cellar of his home in Falkreath. He had filled most of the safes down there with valuable jewels that could be sold for a great sum of money.

It was the closest he'd ever gotten to drafting a will. He had been urged to do it several times by Lydia, who had pointed out that if he ever died, there would be a massive uproar over what to do with his homes, his collection of artifacts, and his legacy. He had never married, had no children to pass anything on to.

So he left everything to Brynjolf and Karliah. He knew they would be responsible enough to take care of it all, and to make sure that Lilly was well provided for.

A dark shape to his far right caught his attention suddenly. A wolf had gathered itself to spring at Rory. She stared ahead down the path, not seeing the creature at all.

He grabbed her and yanked her out of the way. The wolf just missed her right arm, landing near him. Aldric bared his teeth and growled loudly, his arms raised in the air. He brought his right foot down in a threatening step toward it.

The wolf flattened its ears at hearing Aldric's beast, and then slowly backed up, never taking its eyes off him. When it was far enough away from him, it turned and ran. Aldric waited to make sure it wouldn't come back, and then turned around.

"This has to stop," he said to Rory.

"What has to stop?" she asked. Her voice sounded hoarse.

"I understand that it was hard for you to leave Lilly, but I need you to come back to me now." He held her by the shoulders. "It's dangerous on the road, and I need you to focus. We have no chance at this thing if you don't focus."

He thought she would argue, but she turned her head and met his eyes. "You're right. I apologize. I didn't think it would be that difficult."

The tension left him and he sighed. "Lilly did well. Brynjolf and Karliah will take good care of her."

She watched him blankly. "Why are you so sure of that? What are the Nightingales? You seemed so confident in their abilities."

Aldric hesitated. He figured Karliah could not blame him now if he were to tell Rory everything, but he wanted to find a way to tell her the truth while preserving some secrecy. "The Nightingales serve Nocturnal."

"A daedra?"

He suspected she was playing dumb. "She's the goddess of shadows and stealth. Everything she is, she has offered to the Nightingales as gifts and abilities. Karliah and Brynjolf are more than just skilled thieves, they're blessed with those gifts," he explained.

"And how well do you know them?"

He paused. "Why didn't you ask these questions before we left Lilly with them? Why would you trust them, if you don't know anything about them?"

"Because you do," she said simply. She looked off into the distance. "You told Karliah you didn't know where else you could go if she told you no. So I had to put my trust in you, because you put yours in them."

Her words were flattering, but they were also frightening. "Rory…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know everything. You can't trust in me blindly, thinking that I will never make a mistake."

She frowned. "I don't accept everything you say as fact, Aldric. I'm not following you blindly over a cliff into a river of fire just because you say we can swim."

"That's not what I meant."

"Yes, it is."

"All right, I did mean that." He gave her a half-smile. "We're a team now. Both of us lead equally."

Rory gave him a slow blink. "As if I'd let you be the leader."

He snorted. "Well, now that we've got that settled…may I see the correspondence you said you'd found on one of the bodies?"

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Right. Let me find it."

She searched through her slim knapsack, finally pulling out what she wanted. The letter came simply, lacking envelope or wax seal. It was folded in half through the middle. Aldric opened it.

_Larissa, _

_ After you acquire the girl, send her back to me with Dolf and Petyr. _

_ Then you are to find the Snowpoint Pack._

He frowned at the paper. "I'm assuming they were talking about Lilly. Those must be the names of the three that attacked the house that night."

Rory nodded.

"'Snowpoint Pack,'" he said out loud, thoughtfully. "That must mean werewolves, right?"

"Yes," she said.

Something in her voice made him look up at her. Her whole head was turned away from him. "Do you know where it is?"

"Yes, I know where it is."

He touched her shoulder. "What's the matter?"

She finally turned to him after a moment of hesitation. "That is the pack my mother was born into."

He felt his face fall slack in shock. "What?"

She turned away again. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner."

"You specifically said you didn't have much to go on, just this letter that said they were part of a tracking party." He recalled her words in the cellar. "This is a hell of a lot more than a vague letter, this is hard evidence pointing us in a direction."

"I'm sorry!" she repeated, her voice louder. "I didn't know how to bring it up. I was waiting until Lilly was safe."

"What do you know about your mother's pack?" he asked. "Anything useful?"

"I lived with them for six years," she said quietly.

Another blow. "How? I thought they turned your mother away. You said they would have killed her."

"They did turn her away." She shook her head. "Several decades after I was born, she encouraged me to try to live a normal life. My father supported her in this. She pointed me toward her pack."

"Why? Wouldn't they shun you the way they shunned her?"

Rory nodded. "My mother was confident that enough time had passed since my birth to allay suspicion. I was not the middle-aged woman they would have expected. "

A thought occurred to Aldric. "Your mother must have been an old woman by then."

"In her seventies," Rory agreed.

"Then how was Lilly born? Your mother would have been over a hundred."

Rory suddenly looked tired. "I can't explain that, because my father couldn't, either. My mother's aging had slowed down, but it hadn't ceased. She appeared to be less than half her age when Lilly came along."

"Oh." Aldric thought it over. "Is that why your mother…"

"Didn't survive the birth?" Rory finished. "Most likely."

Aldric knew she wouldn't want him to tell her he was sorry, so he didn't. "What happened when you went to the pack?"

She shrugged. "I had to prove myself through a trial, the same way any lone wolf would. I passed and was accepted."

"What kind of trial?"

"I fought the pack member that was closest in rank to me."

"You killed someone?"

"No." Rory shook her head. "Killing is allowed in fights for rank, but it can be avoided."

"Fights for rank…does that mean what I think it means?" Aldric asked.

"If a pack member wants to move higher, they have to challenge the wolf they want to replace. If that wolf isn't strong enough, they forfeit their status." She looked at him curiously. "Do you know nothing of pack life?"

Strangely, he felt embarrassed. "No, I've never come across a pack before. I've only been a werewolf for a couple of years."

Surprise flickered across her face. "I wouldn't have guessed."

He changed the subject. "I'd like to know your thoughts about the vampire's letter."

Rory hesitated. "I don't know why they would bother going after a werewolf pack if they had succeeded in taking Lilly, but it's not a coincidence that Snowpoint was my mother's pack. They're connected somehow."

He thought for a moment. "I can't see any reason why they would be connected, besides the obvious. Can you?"

She folded her arms. "The only thought that made even a small bit of sense was that their aim is to wipe out the pack to complete their punishment. Make it a statement to all packs. They fear and hate hybrids, and if it happened twice, it could happen again. They would try to ensure that it wouldn't. If they spread fear through a mass killing, it'd likely be made pack law."

Aldric stared at her. "That makes more than a small bit of sense, Rory. That has to be why they were targeting Snowpoint."

"It's just hard to believe that they would want to kill the entire pack after an entire century has passed," she stated, shaking her head. "My mother and father have already died. They have Lilly and I cornered and on the run."

"You once told me that time means nothing to vampires," he reminded her. "That insults and grudges can last centuries."

"That's true," she admitted.

He pulled out his map. "Where is Snowpoint located?"

She leaned over his shoulder, her hair brushing his forearm. Her scent was only a mild distraction now. "Here." She pointed at a spot near Winterhold and Dawnstar. "High in the mountains, on one of the peaks, actually. A watchtower marks the location of the pack."

"Snowpoint Beacon?" he asked, surprised.

Rory glanced at him. "You know it?"

"I don't know why I didn't make the connection earlier," he said. "I've been there. To here," he pointed at a spot marked as a fort, "and here." Another fort.

She leaned back. "So close. And you didn't see them?"

He shook his head. "I avoided Snowpoint Beacon. There were bandits inhabiting the tower. I was focused on another mission."

Rory looked amused. "Those were likely pack members. What were you there for?"

"Both times, ironically, I was hunting down members of the Silver Hand."

Her face shut down quickly at the mention of the band of werewolf hunters. "Did you succeed?"

"Yes. I killed every Silver Hand in both Fort Fellhammer and Driftshade. I take it you've come across them before," he noted, watching her.

"The pack leader knew they were in the area, but they'd never bothered us before," Rory said, remembering. "They weren't very effective at what they did. They seemed unable to recognize us for what we were. Most of them were quite stupid. But once, they killed a female and her mate when they strayed too far from the pack during a hunt. She was with child."

Aldric looked away, gritting his teeth. He didn't want to imagine how great a trophy a pregnant werewolf would have been to the Silver Hand. He could only hope that her death had been swift. "They also killed Aela's lover, Skjor, and ultimately Kodlak. They stormed Jorrvaskr one night when I was not there."

"You had your revenge." Her words were more statement than question.

He nodded. "Yes. Vilkas and I took Driftshade. I fought as my beast."

He couldn't be sure, but he thought she looked proud. "Then they knew terror before the end."

Aldric's brows quirked. "Those were almost exactly Vilkas's words."

"Perhaps he's not so distant from his wolf as he'd have you believe."

"What you've just said is most likely the reason he's become the way he is now," he suggested. "He regretted the rage and bloodlust he felt that night."

Rory didn't pursue the topic further. "I don't think we need to worry about the Silver Hand anymore, if you wiped them out in both those forts."

"Most likely not," he agreed.

"It says much about their organization, that they were in the midst of a large werewolf pack and had no idea," she mused. "I wonder what Andreas made of the situation when I left."

"Andreas?"

She looked up. "He was the pack leader. I imagine one of his children leads now."

"Leadership is hereditary?"

"It is not a democracy, Aldric, where leaders are elected," Rory told him. "When the alpha is too old to guide the pack, the most dominant of his children takes over."

"Not the oldest?"

"No, not always the oldest." She looked him up and down. "If you want to approach the pack, you're going to have to learn a thing or two. For an outsider, they would forgive your ignorance, but as wolf you will be held to certain standards."

"My ignorance?" He feigned offense.

She grinned. "They won't be inclined to listen to you and accept your words if you come as you are now, regardless of your dominance. You know less than a child in the pack."

"Wonderful," he muttered.

"We have time." Rory slung her pack over her shoulders and tightened the straps. "Tonight, when we make camp, I will teach you."

* * *

They had settled in the hot springs between Windhelm and Riften. Aldric was not fond of the location, but they weren't far from a camp of hunters. The firelight from the distant camp was visible from where they were. Most animals would be unlikely to feel comfortable wandering around between the two camps.

Rory was cleaning one of her ebony swords after sharpening it. The blade was brand new, one Aldric had made himself, but Rory didn't miss a night of wiping it down with an oiled cloth.

They had spent the last hour or two going over hierarchy and the customs Aldric would be expected to recognize or participate in. There were many more details to memorize than he had expected.

"This is awful," he complained, holding his head in his hands. "I won't be able to remember all of this."

The patience could be heard in her voice. "Trust in your wolf. He knows what to do. If you're unsure, follow your instincts."

"You would be much better at this than me," he pointed out.

She smiled. "Then I would have to go to them alone."

"No," he said immediately.

"Then you have to learn."

He sighed. "My mind is overwhelmed."

"Then call your wolf. He can help you. You might need him when we find the pack." She stood and brushed her legs off, stowing the sword and her supplies inside the small tent they had put up.

"That's easier said than done," he groused. "I spent so much time trying to control my beast instead of him controlling me."

Aldric suddenly wondered if Farkas was going through this right now with Aela. Stretched miles apart, he felt a kinship with his shield-brother. Both of them were being pushed to their limits by strong women trying to instruct them in the finer points of lycanthropy.

"Search for him," Rory commanded.

"Who?" he said, absurdly thinking for a moment that she meant Farkas.

She blinked at him. "Your wolf."

"Oh." He closed his eyes and concentrated. The animal was there, below the surface of conscious thought, where he always was. He tried to make it rise, to coax it to him, but there was no reason for it to waken. Nothing happened.

"It's not working."

"Call him to you," Rory said. "He's not so much a separate being inside of you as he is a part of you. Part of him is Aldric, and part of Aldric is the wolf. Call to him."

Taking a deep breath, he tried again. He frowned as he silently beckoned the wolf to uncurl from his cage of control.

He exhaled through his teeth sharply. "This isn't working."

He had barely opened his eyes when a movement flashed at him. He flinched as Rory crashed into him, knocking him flat on his back. His breath went out of him in a rush as he looked up at her.

"What are—" He broke off as she settled herself astride him, her thighs on either side of him. She drew her hands up his abdomen, slowly, ending on his chest.

"Anything?" she asked him.

He shook his head. What had they been doing, again?

Rory leaned forward, her hands smoothing over his shoulders, kneading the muscle. She sniffed his neck, her long hair tickling him. As she ran her hands down his arms, she suddenly grabbed him. Forcing his arms up, she pinned his wrists to the ground above his head. He tried to pull away, and her hold tightened considerably. She had trapped him.

That did it. Aldric's beast rose abruptly in response to her dominance. In that moment, for the first time, he saw what she meant about his wolf not being a separate being. Aldric had always pictured a wolf spirit that lived inside of him, its own entity that coexisted with his soul inside of his body.

Now, he could see how wrong he'd been. The beast was _him_—just a part of his mind that was not always awake. His brain made a clear shift into that secret part of himself.

Suddenly, everything was _more_. Sounds were clearer, and he could hear much farther away. He smelled things on the breeze—smelled Rory's breath, her hair, the oil she'd used for the sword, everything she'd touched or brushed against that day.

Aldric pulled his arms away, and Rory let him. He sat up and grabbed her by the hips, moving her closer. Her long hair trailed behind her, and he wrapped his fist in that hair, gathered all of it in his hand.

Using her hair like a handle, he pulled it to the side. Her head moved with it, exposing the long, pale line of her throat. He could practically see her pulse jumping just below the surface of his skin. He buried his face in it, smelling, licking and nipping at her neck.

"That worked better than I thought it would," she breathed.

In response, his hand rose to her chest, deftly undoing the buckles of her cuirass. When she moved, his grip on her hair tightened to keep her still. Once the leather was unfastened, he opened it to bare her skin to the night air.

She wore a thin cotton tunic underneath it. Her nipples were dark and apparent beneath the fabric. They hardened as he watched, and he licked at one appreciatively.

He pulled back, looking at the wet spot his mouth had created on the fabric. He was annoyed with the tunic and wanted it to be gone. Before he could do anything, she stopped him with a touch on his wrist.

"Don't rip it," she warned him, and struggled on his lap to fully shed her cuirass. Once it was off, she pulled the tunic over her head and let it fall to the ground.

Looking into her eyes, he lowered his face to one of her breasts, taking the tip of it into his mouth. Her eyelashes fluttered. When he grazed his teeth against her nipple, her lips parted and her head fell back.

He moved to give attention to her other breast, bringing his hand up to cup the one he had just introduced himself to. It fit his hand nicely. Her hands curled around his neck as he released her hair and cradled the breast he was licking.

"Should I stop?" he asked her, pulling back to look at her.

She glared down at him from her perch on his lap. "If you stop now," she growled, "I will kill you."

He grinned and leaned forward. She met him in a kiss, her lips almost bruising against him in her intensity. Her tongue stroked along his at the same time she pulled ineffectively against the buckles of his own cuirass.

Trying not to break the kiss, he set about removing it himself. He finally moved away when he tried for the sixth time to undo the last buckle. Once it was free, he ripped it off and turned back to her, but she pushed him to rest on his back on the ground again.

Rory sank her teeth into the taut muscle of his chest. He yelped at the sudden bite, and she laughed low in her throat. The laugh vibrated against him. She locked her lips around his nipple and bit him there as well.

Aldric pulled at her leather pants, undoing them while she continued to explore his bare chest. Once they were unbuckled, he slid them down over her backside, pulling them down as far as they would go while she straddled him.

She rolled off of him and kicked at her boots. Once they were gone, she wriggled out of the trousers and moved them away. He did the same, not caring where his armor landed.

She rolled again and returned to her spot astride him. He cupped her bare hips and hummed in surprise when his fingers discovered her lack of smallclothes.

"Come here," he murmured. He picked her up by the waist and began to lift her closer to his head. She frowned slightly as he arranged her in a sitting position on his chest.

The frown disappeared as he tugged at her knees, urging her to come closer. Her eyes opened wide when he settled himself underneath her, his face close to her most intimate of areas.

He moved his head to the side and kissed her thigh. She looked down at him, watched as he gently blew on her. He didn't break the eye contact as he licked his tongue against her folds. Using his thumbs to spread her wide, he found her nub and nudged her forward until he drew it into his mouth.

He licked, kissed, and lapped at her, alternating patterns until she cried out above him. Aldric flicked his tongue sharply against her and her body bounced. He circled her nub lazily, slowly, until her thighs shook against either side of his head. Then he sealed his mouth around her and sucked.

Rory bucked against his mouth and grabbed tightly at his hands on her hips. A few seconds passed, and then she screamed. Aldric reached down and took himself into his hand as Rory continued to writhe against his mouth. He didn't stop the movement of his tongue as he found his own release.

She moved off of him, collapsing onto the ground next to him. Chest heaving, he turned his head to her. Her back glistened with sweat in the firelight, and her hair curled around her arms where she had buried her head.

Aldric put a hand on her hip and rolled her to face him. "Are you all right?"

Panting, she didn't open her eyes as she answered him. "I am more than all right."

He grinned and rested on his back again. "Good."

They spent a few moments regaining their breath. Gradually, the night air began to chill Aldric's body, and he sat up to search for his clothes. A branch snapped at the very edge of the circle of light created by the campfire, and he turned his head to face the noise.

A pair of green-gold eyes glowed at him, flickering solidly like a septim catching the light. He froze, and just as he was about to reach out to Rory, another pair of eyes glittered at him, several feet away from the first creature.

A sabercat crept stealthily into the light, crouched low to the ground. Muscles rippled fluidly under its tawny coat. Its mate looked less sure, but followed at a distance, eyeing Rory and Aldric warily.

Aldric nudged Rory's hip forcefully. She groaned and lifted her head. "What?"

When she looked at him, he nodded to the cats.

Her body tensed. She looked at where her sword rested, on the other side of the small camp near the two cats. They were both completely unarmed.

Aldric was prepared to use a Shout, but he wasn't sure if he could catch the animals before they sprang at them. He hesitated; using the force of his Thu'um would obliterate the fire and the shelter they'd constructed, and scatter their supplies and weapons far across the area.

Rory was quicker than him, though. Moving with the same liquid grace the two cats displayed, she leapt to her feet in a crouch and seized a branch from the fire. She pulled it out and charged the two sabercats, swinging the blazing wood back and forth rapidly.

The flame roared through the air in front of the closer cat's face. He opened his jaws in a hiss, baring the foot-long fangs he was named for. Rory snarled back at him and pressed forward.

The makeshift torch finally came too close for comfort to the cat. He scuttled backward away from the fire and Rory's aggressive growls. His mate was already a safe distance away, sitting on her haunches with her ears swiveling in concern. Once the male joined her, they turned and loped silently into the dark.

Rory stood for a while, watching them make their retreat. Aldric admired the way the firelight lit the strong, finely sculpted muscles of her naked body. She dropped the branch back into the fire and turned to him.

"If we're going to do any more of…this," she gestured to where he lay on the bedroll, still nude, "then perhaps the wilds of Eastmarch aren't the best place to be doing it."


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **I'm such a doofus! I'm so sorry if you got the notification that this chapter was posted, only to see it was gone. I uploaded it before I could make some changes to it.

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**Chapter 22**

The closer they got to the pack, the more nervous and unsure Aldric became. He could tell that Rory was watching him and the way he changed the subject each time it came up.

They were approaching Snowpoint from the south. Traveling out of the hot springs, they had turned west before reaching Windhelm, and crossed into The Pale to follow the river to its source, Lake Yorgrim. From there, it would be easy enough to stay on the road until they neared Fort Fellhammer, and Snowpoint Beacon.

The journey to the lake had taken more than a week. Rory had wanted to switch their traveling schedule to the nights, but Aldric had resisted. He simply did not feel comfortable sleeping during the day. Animals roamed the wilderness during the night, but they would have to deal with human predators during the day. The road was rife with bandits waiting to rob caravans.

Aldric found out that Rory hated snow even more than she hated rain. If they weren't in the midst of a dense blizzard in The Pale, they walked through snow fine as powder that clung to every available inch of hair and skin before dissolving and soaking them. Rory's hood never left her head.

Making camp in the wintry land was difficult as well. They had to dig away the drifts of snow until they revealed the frozen ground before they could set up the tent. A tree needed to be felled for each fire, and the fresh wood smoked heavily.

One benefit to the temperature was that each night, they depended on each other for warmth. Rory had not slept away from him since they'd left Falkreath, but the extreme cold seemed to awaken within her some kind of primal desperation to stay warm. They fell asleep each night naked and wrapped tightly around one another.

He hadn't initiated anything since the night in Eastmarch, though he'd joked that it would make them warmer. The cold seemed to sap Rory of her energy and all good humor. She cursed and swore like a dockworker at every turn.

That night as he pounded the stakes into the ground to secure the tent, he watched her chop wood. This would most likely be their last night making camp. Tomorrow when the sun rose, they would journey north and, hopefully, reach the pack before sundown.

Rory began tossing the green logs in a pile in front of the tent. One by one, her throws became more and more reckless until one log smacked into the back of his leg. The wood struck him at directly the right spot behind his knee and he buckled, losing his balance.

Aldric righted himself and turned with a glare, expecting to see her scowling face. Instead, she was grinning broadly at him. He tried to maintain his frown, but couldn't.

He chuckled, kicking the wood away from him. "What's gotten into you?"

She shrugged. "Today wasn't so bad. I think I'm getting used to the constant snow."

"Glad to hear it," he grunted as he drove the final stake into the ground. The icy mud was hard as steel.

She dropped the axe they'd borrowed from the mill. "I'm going to hunt."

"Keep a sharp eye out for trolls," he reminded her.

Their first night in The Pale, they'd both been badly surprised by one that came to inspect their camp after they'd bedded down. Aldric had woken to the creature's inquisitive hooting as it began to dismantle their shelter. Rory's shriek of rage as the tent collapsed over them nearly scared it off, but once Aldric had emerged, it decided to attack.

"Will do," she called dryly over her shoulder as she left.

He busied himself with arranging the fire. Once the kindling beneath the wood had caught, the flame gradually spread over the green logs. By the time Rory returned an hour or so later, the fire was hot enough to cook over.

"The only game I ran across was a buck," she told him, setting down two rabbits. "He was too large for us."

Aldric looked over her kills. They'd been struck with clean, expert shots, through the head each time. "These will do."

He began to skin the hares while she unstrung her bow. She pulled off the glove he'd specially modified for her and flexed her fingers. "Do you still want to do this, Aldric?"

He paused in his work, looking up at her. "Do what?"

"Visit the pack."

"We don't have a choice," he pointed out. "That's the only clue we have."

Rory looked away, clutching her gloves. "That's not what I meant. If you want, I can go to them. You could make camp nearby and wait."

Part of him wanted to take the offer. For a reason he could not explain, some instinct was telling him not to go to the Snowpoint Pack. "I can't ask you to do that for me."

Her eyes flicked back to him. "You're not asking, I'm offering. I know you feel hesitation over this."

"The only reason I'm hesitant to do this," he started, "is because I'm worried I'll ruin this beyond any hope of salvaging it. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm supposed to know—if I botch a custom or a greeting or I don't respond to a subtle cue, this entire thing could go down."

Rory looked upset. "I didn't mean to make you so unsure of yourself."

"I know you didn't." He turned back to the rabbits.

"Trust in yourself," she said, touching his knee. "Trust in your wolf. It will all come together."

Aldric had done many things that relied on only his instincts or things he had barely learned. For the first year after he'd been made aware that he was Dragonborn, he had been both inflated by his newfound confidence and wracked with confusion at his abilities and strengths.

He thought back on the time he had traveled to Skuldafn. He'd had no idea what he was doing beyond the vague idea that he was going to travel to an otherworldly plane. If he could battle past _that_ uncertainty, then he could defeat this as well.

Feeling marginally better, he set the rabbits up to roast. After they'd eaten, and after Rory's customary cleaning of her weapons, they bedded down in the tent. Aldric snugly knotted the ties that held the flaps shut.

The both fell asleep quickly. He woke once in the night to the wind howling around them. Thunder, quiet but insistent, rolled overhead. The sound was calming, even if Aldric knew it meant they'd wake to more fresh snow in the morning. The bedroll they were tucked into was very warm, and he buried his face in Rory's hair as he fell asleep again.

* * *

They'd made better time than he'd expected. The sun overhead indicated it was barely past noon when Snowpoint Beacon came into view. Covered in snow and ice, the old tower stood proudly against the peak of the mountain.

Just beyond the tower, he glimpsed what could only be the pack. It looked like a tiny town, or a very large camp. Small structures climbed up the incline to the mountain's peak; snow had been leveled so that the upward slope was not so sharp. Figures moved about the area.

Rory took the lead, pulling her hood back. She approached the watchtower from the east, walking slowly with both hands fully visible. He followed in the same manner.

A man was leaning against the opening to the tower, standing on a shoddily constructed wooden ramp. His upper body was bare, save for a thick animal hide draped over his shoulders.

When he noticed them, he pushed away from the stone wall and unsheathed an axe at his hip. "Not a step closer," he warned, his voice unfriendly. The wind blew through his tousled dark yellow hair, tied behind his head in a long tail.

"We're here to visit the pack," Rory called out. She held her hands up.

He walked closer to them, tightening his grip on the axe's handle. When he was within ten feet of them, he took a deep breath. "You're like us."

"Yes."

The suspicion hadn't left his face. "What do you want?"

"We have important information. It's urgent. We need to speak with the pack leader," Aldric said.

The man looked past Rory at him. He looked Aldric up and down, as if judging something, and then put the war axe back on his hip. "Why should I take you to him?"

Rory spoke up. "Your pack is in danger. If you don't let us through, all of you may die."

"Does this have anything to do with the Silver Hand?" the scout asked. "We've known for years that two of their strongholds flank our territory."

"No, this is not about the Silver Hand," Rory said. "Do they still trouble you?"

The pack member shook his head. "Not for the past couple of years. They have been strangely quiet. We have sent several of our fastest hunters to investigate their forts. They no longer patrol their perimeters."

"That's because they're all dead," Rory told him. "My friend here killed them all two years ago. If you were to enter their forts, you would see that for yourself." She stuttered ever so slightly over the word 'friend.'

The man's pale eyes sharpened on Aldric. "This is true?"

Aldric nodded. "Yes. I, and another werewolf, wiped them out. They still exist elsewhere in Skyrim, but not here. Not any longer."

Suddenly, the scout grinned. "My pack will be very pleased to hear that."

Rory returned his smile. "I'll bet they will."

"I will take you up. I believe you've earned the audience." He nodded. "My name is Kaspar."

"I'm Rory."

Kaspar looked past her to Aldric. Rory had not participated in any of the greetings they'd talked about. "I'm Aldric."

"Come, Rory, Aldric." Kaspar turned and began to climb past the watchtower to the pack. "Come, and meet my alpha."

* * *

The pack was not unlike bandit camps Aldric had come across in his travels. He wondered if it was designed that way on purpose, to fool the eyes if someone were to come across them. Then again, he had no notion of what, exactly, a werewolf pack was supposed to look like.

Low, wide tents dotted the snowy landscape, constructed of patches of hide and leather. These were the structures the pack members lived in. With the openings rolled up and secured, Aldric caught glimpses inside of bedding and tables, even a small bookshelf or two.

As they entered the camp, every person they came across stopped what they were doing. Most were engaged in work, whether it was chopping wood, preparing food, or repairing items. No one, save for children here and there, was idle.

A couple of the children ran up to the three of them. Rory had told him that werewolves did not reproduce as easily as most humans did, and that children were considered precious—thusly, the pack as a whole was very protective of them, and he was not to talk or play with them until he had earned trust.

A child reached out and touched the sleeve of the leather Guildmaster armor he wore as they passed. Aldric looked down at him, hoping his friendliness translated in his eyes, and then looked away.

Kaspar swiped good-naturedly at the child's head, clacking his teeth together. The boy giggled and ran back to a woman in front of them, excitedly calling ahead.

At the child's announcement, more people were beginning to appear. Kaspar led the two of them up through the natural path in the middle of camp, heading for the top of the hill. A large, more permanent building was there.

Aldric kept his eyes forward as they walked. He resisted the urge to look in the faces of the pack members that were beginning to crowd around them and follow. Uneasily, he noticed from the corner of his eye that many of the males were beginning to flank them. Some wore blank, curious expressions, but some were distinctly unwelcoming. Low voices murmured amongst them.

Kaspar had noticed as well. Finally addressing the growing crowd, he called out, "Enough! Move back, all of you."

The scout moved forward briskly. Aldric kept his pulse steady as he followed. Once they had broken away from the dense formation of the camp, they faced the large building at the top.

It was a cabin of medium size, constructed from gray wood. The door in the front was open, and Aldric could see figures moving inside. A massive fire pit was built before the cabin, many cuts of meat cooking on a spit over the flames.

Once Kaspar led Rory and Aldric near the cabin, the crowd that had been following them abruptly stopped. They did not enter the wide space that stretched between the last tents and the cookfire.

"Kaspar!" a male voice, strong and clear, rang out. "You bring strangers into our midst?"

The scout immediately dipped his head as the speaker approached. "They say they have important news concerning the pack, Ragnar. News of danger and death."

The man had stepped out of the cabin and stalked toward them now, jaw tight. He was tall and heavily muscled, his head shorn of hair. Like Kaspar, he was bare-chested, wearing only a pair of brown leather trousers.

As he came closer, he scented the air. His silver eyes flashed. "You bring two lone wolves into our pack? Who are you to decide this?"

Ragnar's anger could be smelled on the breeze. Kaspar sensed it as well, and lowered himself in a half-bowing, half-crouching gesture. His head hung down, facing the snow, wordlessly showing the other werewolf his submission.

Ragnar looked past Kaspar at the two of them. His glance at Rory was cursory and brief, but he lingered on Aldric.

Aldric pushed all of his uncertainty away and stepped forward. "My name is Aldric, and my companion is Rory. We have urgent news for you."

Rory's instructions were fresh in his mind. Because his own status was one of a dominant—but unattached—wolf, he was not to show submission to the alpha.

Instead, he was to offer calm and steady eye contact and wait for the other man to touch him first, usually on the shoulders. He did just that, waiting in front of Ragnar.

Ragnar's eyes bored into Aldric's, unreadable but aggressive. With each passing second of silence, Aldric's confidence began to waver. They had not discussed what would happen if the pack leader did not accept him. Later on, after he'd been informed of what they knew, yes, but immediately, before they'd even spoken—no.

Aldric blinked but did not look away. He could feel Rory's tension next to him. On the ground between them, Kaspar did not move.

Ragnar began to move forward, one painfully slow step at a time. Aldric's instincts about what was happening proved to be correct as he lifted his lip to bare his teeth.

"You _dare_ to challenge me?" Ragnar's voice was low and furious. He began to circle the two of them, never taking his eyes from Aldric.

Aldric lifted his chin, glancing quickly around the cabin. The people inside had come out, observing, but were now hanging back with wary looks on their faces. Behind them, the rest of the pack was gathering in a crowd. At the sound of Ragnar's anger, Kaspar backed away, keeping low to the ground.

Aldric had no idea what was going on, but it was not good. Not good at all.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: **Did everyone have a good weekend? I did, even though I struggled with a tiny bit of writer's block! Anyhow, many thanks to **Krookodile553**, **Chief Wahu**, **ABrilliantBystander**, **HayleyHat**, **Rapier-3**, and **WojoClan** for the follows and favorites. Welcome!

* * *

**Chapter 23**

Rory stood and watched the man in front of her begin to approach Aldric. Everything about him signaled hostility and aggression. Her mind frantically ran through everything that had happened in the last sixty seconds, trying to single out where they had gone wrong.

In a flash, she realized what had happened.

She violently bit the inside of her lip. There was no way to avoid what was about to happen next. Moving quickly, she began to pull Aldric's bow and greatsword from his back. He jumped at the feeling of her hands on him and turned his head to her, careful to keep his eyes on Ragnar.

"What's happening?" he muttered in a low voice.

"Ragnar is not the alpha," she whispered back. "You just challenged him."

He cursed. "What do I do now?"

"Defend yourself. Do not kill him, but try not to lose." With that, she stepped back and laid his weapons on the ground next to her feet.

Rory wanted to kick herself. Aldric had been so worried that he would insult or offend someone important in the pack and jeopardize the reason they were there. Without counsel from the pack, they were clueless. She had soothed his anxiety about it and assured him it was extremely unlikely. And now it was happening.

Ragnar kept up his stalking, pacing back and forth in a half-circle before Aldric. Rory did not like the way he was looking at Aldric; his face was motionless, but his eyes burned with something deadly.

Aldric watched Ragnar carefully. She knew he was a capable fighter, but pack members had grown up since childhood fighting and clawing their way through rank. Ragnar was clearly high up. He had more to lose.

All she could do was watch. To interfere would mean an automatic forfeit on Aldric's behalf, and label him as submissive. She had to let him do this on his own, and trust in his prowess.

Ragnar lowered his head and charged full-speed at Aldric, intending to catch him around the waist and take him to the ground. At the very last second, Aldric moved to the side, barely missing the charge. Ragnar stumbled past him and whirled, his teeth bared again.

He closed in, swinging both arms at Aldric's head. Aldric dodged each blow and continued to move backward, keeping his hands loose and apart.

"Coward!" he roared. "Fight me!"

Aldric said nothing, only kept his eyes trained on his target.

Ragnar came at him, his huge arm stretching out in another punch. Aldric dodged again and drove his fist upward in a hard blow to Ragnar's middle. The other man grunted and stumbled for a half-second, and then Aldric struck him in the nose. A cracking sound echoed through the camp.

Ragnar fell on his rear in the snow. Blood was already streaming, thick and dark, from his nose. He spat out bloody saliva on the ground and was on his feet immediately.

Rory was pleased to see Aldric holding his own against the larger man. Each time Ragnar tried to grapple with him and use his weight and size, Aldric broke the hold. At every available opportunity, he dodged or blocked Ragnar's blows—it was obvious to her that he was trying to avoid winning by conventional means.

Lightning fast, Aldric's foot swept both of Ragnar's out from under him. Ragnar landed hard on his side but quickly regained his footing, only to catch a brutal open-handed slap from Aldric. Ragnar let out an enraged roar, his head snapping back.

This time, he was successful in tackling Aldric. All of a sudden, the two men were down and rolling. Rory's heart began hammering when Ragnar gained the upper hand. He straddled Aldric's chest and hit him once, twice, three times in the face. In mere seconds, it looked like Aldric was about to lose.

Then Ragnar reached away from Aldric, his hand scrabbling in the snow. He pulled it back from the powder to reveal a jagged rock. He raised his hand high in the air.

Rory didn't remember making the decision to move. It seemed that in the span of time it took to blink, she arched through the air and slammed into Ragnar.

She carried him with her to the ground, and as her back made contact with the ground in a roll, she gripped his shoulders. Using all of her strength, she hurled him away from her.

The effect was spectacular. Ragnar landed more than ten feet away from her, his body smashing into the side of the gray cabin. The walls shook with the thunderous impact, loosened snow falling to the ground.

For a long moment, Ragnar did not move. Then he stirred and began to drag himself to his feet.

Rory faced him, her weight balanced on the tips of her toes and one hand on the ground before her. One more movement from him and she was prepared to strike again. A guttural, menacing snarl ripped its way up through her throat. The beginnings of her change began to vibrate up her spine.

Ragnar paused at the sound. He straightened up and regarded her.

A laugh broke the tension. From the doorway of the cabin next to Ragnar, a new man stood. He laughed again and clapped his hands, as if she were the funniest thing he'd ever seen.

She answered him with another snarl. This one could have some if he wanted it, too.

"Easy, my friend." The stranger held his hand out to her.

Ragnar ignored the newcomer and took a step toward her. All of her muscles tensed as she prepared to spring.

"Stop, brother!" Unexpected authority rang in the man's voice, all goodwill gone. "You will not move any closer to her."

"She attacked me!" Ragnar yelled. The cords in his neck stood out in his rage.

"What do you expect?" the man asked him. "You broke the rules of engagement the second you picked up the stone. She is only defending her mate."

"Her mate was losing to me! She interrupted the challenge, and now she must face me!"

Rory was not convinced of the other man's control over Ragnar. She didn't lose her protective stance in front of Aldric.

"You are incorrect," the smaller man said coldly, "but I am of half a mind to let you at her." He gestured to Rory. "Look at her, Ragnar. Look in her eyes. You will not walk away whole from this one. You would be stupid to provoke a female during the fertile seasons, and stupider still to provoke one of her strength."

Ragnar looked away, his face murderous. He forcibly pulled himself away, yelling his anger into the air as he left.

The man watched him leave with a shake of his head. He turned to move toward Rory. Something in her face made him halt. "You can relax. He will not be back. You will come to no harm while you are here."

She watched him for a second or two before she rose to her feet. Aldric stood behind her, and touched her waist. "Who are you?"

"I am Kyrr, the alpha of the Snowpoint Pack."

At his words, Aldric stepped away from her. Kyrr approached him and reached up to place both his hands on Aldric's shoulders. "Welcome, brother." He smiled at Rory, placing one hand on her shoulder and one on her cheek. "Welcome, sister."

Kyrr stepped back. He was a slight man, though not lacking physical strength. He was Rory's height or a shade taller, and roughly her weight. Like Ragnar, he was dressed in only a pair of trousers. A leather band, woven through with the large teeth of a bear, adorned his bicep.

His hair was a light, sandy brown, and fell below his ears, too short to gather away from his face. Kyrr's eyes were silver, as expected, but held warmth and friendliness as he looked back at her.

Rory recognized some of Andreas in him. The pack leader she had known was also not physically imposing, and had the same bump in the bridge of his nose.

She felt something close to sadness at the thought. It would have been nice to sit and talk with Kyrr about his father. He was perhaps the only person she had ever come across who had also known someone from her past.

"Ragnar is a good man to have as my second, but he often struggles with his temper," Kyrr said. He looked at Aldric. "You are a strong fighter, but I believe you humiliated him with the slap. Otherwise, he would have fought honorably."

Aldric dipped his head. "Ragnar is a strong fighter as well. But it was not my intention to challenge him. I mistook him for being the pack leader."

"I take no offense," Kyrr replied easily. "Ragnar often behaves as if he is when I am not around. He was overdue for a lesson. I believe your lovely mate gave him one today."

Aldric looked down at her. "Rory isn't my mate."

"Then she is free?" came a voice behind Kyrr.

Two more men came out of the cabin. At first glance they appeared very different, but on closer inspection the differences were only minor. They were both tall and broad-shouldered, muscular but not heavily so. The one who had spoken was dark, with black hair spilling down his back; his carved cheeks were shadowed with the suggestion of facial hair.

The one at his side was clean-shaven, with hair that would make any woman jealous. It was the pure gold of a septim, gleaming in the sunlight. It was long enough to be braided, but fell loose around his shoulders.

He was the only male she'd seen so far that wore clothing on his upper body. It was a leather tunic that lacked sleeves, but it still covered him. All the others wore only pants and boots; Rory wondered if they'd truly gotten used to the cold, or if it was a display of bravado.

It was obvious the two men were related. As Rory looked at them, she spotted the same long, straight nose, the same full pink lips, and the same chin that was very slightly dimpled.

Kyrr looked over his shoulder. "Amon, you should address her directly if you have interest."

Amon walked closer and did just that. "If you are not mated, then you are free?"

The blond man followed his brother and put a hand on his arm. "Do not be so confident, Amon. They are not fully mated yet, but they are close."

Rory was beginning to grow annoyed with the way Amon's gaze swept over her. It was obvious he had ignored his brother. She narrowed her eyes at him, and when he noticed, he merely grinned, undeterred.

Kyrr drew up alongside the two. "This is Amon, and his brother Seraph. What we lack in a wise woman, we make up for with them. Seraph is our healer and seer, and Amon protects his brother."

Aldric nodded at the two men. Rory ignored Amon's continued stare and looked at Kyrr. "We came today for a purpose. We have information indicating your pack is in danger."

The alpha's face lost its smile. "Do you now? I would be most interested in hearing that."

"May we talk privately?" Aldric asked him.

Kyrr nodded. "Of course. When you are ready," he said, with a glance at Aldric's forgotten weapons, "you may join me in my home." He walked back into the cabin. Seraph and Amon followed him.

When Aldric turned to Rory, she got her first full look at his face. His lower lip was cut badly near the corner, and a dark bruise was forming on his cheekbone. She lifted his hand, examining the raw skin on his knuckles. He watched her with smiling eyes.

"Are you angry with me for interrupting the fight?"

"Why would I be angry?"

"You don't feel like I made you look weak in front of the pack?" she asked.

"No. I would have done the same thing."

"Oh." She gazed at the cut on his lip. Pulling his head toward her, she carefully kissed him. When he made a small noise of pain, she gave the wound a quick swipe of her tongue. It would help it heal faster, and it made her feel better.

After he pulled back, she felt something to her left. Amon was still staring at her from the doorway. He didn't look so cocky anymore.

Aldric had noticed him, too. "I don't like him."

Of course he didn't. "Neither do I."

"We're going to talk about this mate business when we're alone, you know," he told her, looking into her eyes.

She opened her mouth to respond, and then stopped when heat crawled up her neck to her face. She didn't know why she felt so embarrassed all of a sudden.

* * *

Kyrr held the vampire's letter in his hands. Rory hadn't been sure he could read, but didn't want to insult him by asking, so she'd given him the paper. He stared at it for a moment, and then looked at her.

"These are the names of vampires?" he asked.

Rory nodded. "As far as I know, yes. I have reason to believe that they're not the average vampire, that they're part of a very powerful, very old clan."

Kyrr glanced to Aldric. "Another breed of vampires?"

"Have you heard of Volkihar vampires?"

Seraph spoke up. "Creatures that live beneath the frozen ice of lakes."

"Something like that. Lore is difficult to separate from truth, sometimes."

He smiled. "And sometimes the truth has been lost to the ages."

Rory didn't respond to that. She very carefully made her face blank. Was he implying that he didn't believe her?

Kyrr's home, where they sat now, was deceptively small from the outside. Upon entering, Rory had been surprised to see that the mountain itself had been tunneled into. The lodge outside was merely shelter for the entrance.

The interior of the alpha's quarters reminded her somewhat of Jorrvaskr. The ceiling was not far above their heads, and on each side of the hall there were chambers for the members of Kyrr's inner circle. Ragnar and his mate, Amon, and Seraph lived within, in addition to Lejla, Kyrr's mate.

A drop of sweat trickled down Rory's neck. It was very warm in the room they sat in, a chamber connected to Kyrr's personal quarters. The doors had been sealed after they had been seated, preventing any fresh air from entering.

The pack leader handed the letter back to her. He was thoughtful and serious. "I must think more on the involvement of this clan you speak of, but this is evidence that vampires were directed to find my pack. That, I cannot ignore."

From the corner, Amon said, "Why must we fear vampires? Even if they gathered the courage to attack, we would easily defeat them. Every person in this room has faced vampires before. Fearsome to a farming town, yes, but the leeches pose us no true threat." He lazed on the floor on his side, propped up on an elbow. After he spoke, he popped a grape into his mouth.

Aldric looked at him. "Can you tell me what the form they shift into looks like?"

Amon was forced to shake his head.

Kyrr looked shocked. "These creatures hold another form, the same way we do?"

"Yes," Rory said, "and that most definitely poses a true threat." She pointedly did not look at Amon.

"And the two of you have fought them before?" the alpha asked.

Aldric wished he had more information to offer the shaken Kyrr. "Only once."

"I've fought a dozen or so," Rory volunteered.

Everyone in the room turned to look at her.

"What?" she said defensively.

"A _dozen_?" Aldric repeated.

Amon laughed. "You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"What can you tell us about them?" Kyrr leaned forward.

Rory considered how to phrase her next words. She was much stronger than any of the other werewolves, and she hadn't yet gauged the full scope of Aldric's physical strength—though, he had resources available to him that no one else had.

"They are powerful," she finally said. "I would say more so than a dominant wolf. Many prefer to fight at a distance with magical attacks; they are weaker when engaged in hand-to-hand combat."

"What other weaknesses do they have?" Amon asked.

"Is this important right now?" she asked Kyrr. "I can tell you what I know, but I don't believe you're in immediate danger."

"We killed the three that carried this note with them, so it will take some time before whoever sent the party realizes his orders have not been carried out," Aldric chimed in.

The alpha thought for a moment. "I am indebted to the two of you for bringing me this information. That is not something I treat lightly. You have proven to be friends of the pack."

That was not something most alphas gave easily. Rory recognized the honor and felt surprised. "We are privileged."

He looked into her eyes. "You have earned it."

There was a commotion outside of the doors; Rory could hear a woman's soft whispering and another, weaker, voice raised in protest. Kyrr sat up very straight and looked past her when the hushed argument culminated in something being knocked over. The distinct sound of a platter of food falling to the floor could be heard.

Distracted, the pack leader rose to his feet. "Lejla will show you out. It is my insistence that you camp with us for tonight and share in our bounty. In the morning, we will talk more of this."

Aldric stood as well. "Thank you for this, Kyrr."

Kyrr favored him with a hand on his shoulder, and then took his leave of the gathering. He left through the connecting doors to his bedchamber where the two voices had congregated.

Rory could hear Lejla approaching down the hall, two children running after her. As she stood, she ignored both of the brother's eyes on her. Amon leered, but Seraph simply watched her with a detached sort of curiosity.

As she left with Kyrr's mate, Amon called out after her. "Enjoy your time with the pack, Rory. And good luck to you, Aldric. You will need it."


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **Once again, thank you so much to the readers who continue to leave these amazing reviews. **shvaeli** just blew me away! **VealMaster**, your continued support is amazing, and yes, **KK Jace**, it would be awesome if there were more women like Rory around! The world needs ass-kickers.

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**Chapter 24**

"You've come to visit us at an auspicious time," Lejla murmured to Rory as she led them out of the tunnel.

"Oh?" she said absently.

The other woman smiled. "We are in the midst of an early fertile season. If Hircine favors us, we will bring new life into the pack come the summer."

Rory missed a step and stumbled. "What?"

"I was surprised as well," Lejla admitted. "We are several months ahead of the normal time. It is, I believe, nature's way of restoring the balance. We have not been blessed with a baby in nearly four years."

"Maybe," Rory replied, her voice faint.

Lejla took Rory's preoccupation for something else. Smiling gently at her, she took Rory's wrists in her hands. "Perhaps you and your mate will conceive during this time. Seraph seems to think you have been touched by the Divines."

With that, the tall, slim woman left them at the doorway to the cabin. Rory stared at her long, dark red hair as she walked away.

Aldric had been trailing behind the two women as they walked, probably intending to let them talk alone. She wasn't sure how much he'd heard. Lejla passed him with a warm nod.

"Something wrong?" he asked her as he approached.

"You have no idea," she muttered. She could feel a foul mood crawling over her.

"I am glad to see you, my friends!" came a voice behind her.

She turned to see Kaspar waiting for them. He gave her a wide smile, as if nothing had happened earlier. "Lejla said you have been named friends of the pack. Follow me, I'll take you to your quarters."

As Rory walked behind Kaspar, she noticed the other members of the pack watching them. Any earlier hostility had vanished, and now most of them seemed eager to greet them. Most of them, anyway. Some of the males were still discreetly sizing up Aldric.

Kaspar stopped in front of a large tent. It looked the same as any other nearby—a wooden frame within draped with a heavy assortment of animal hides—except that it was markedly closer to Kyrr's home.

The flap that served as a doorway was rolled up and secured with leather cords. Kaspar walked inside, looking around with approval.

"You will sleep here," he said, pointing to the corner, "and you may store your things as you see fit."

A basic mattress rested on the ground, big enough for two. The clean, sweet scent of fresh hay still hung in the air. A massive white fur was stretched across the bed.

A table low to the ground stretched across the middle of the tent. Beyond that, there was a rack for weapons. Their accommodations were austere but functional. Pack life demanded that nothing go to waste, and excess was to be avoided.

Kaspar watched her look around with an expectant look on his face. "This will do nicely," she said truthfully. She didn't expect much.

"Someone will be by to bring you a washbasin," he told her. "We don't venture to the river to bathe. Melting snow over the fire will be much easier."

Lovely. "Thank you, Kaspar."

He sobered. "Kyrr has invited you to eat with his family tonight. That is a great honor."

"I'm aware."

"Good." The smile came back. "I will return to my post at the tower."

After he'd left, Rory yanked the cord that held the tent flap open. It unrolled to the ground with a thump. Noise from outside cut off abruptly, and the interior was dark save for one small brazier filled with glowing coals in the corner.

Aldric began placing their weapons on the rack. "What did Amon mean by telling me I would need luck?"

Rory sighed and dropped onto the bed. "We have terrible timing, that's what it means."

"Is there something wrong?"

"Lejla told me that a 'fertile season' began just before we arrived," she told him. "It's normally in the early spring, not in autumn."

Aldric went very still, his back still turned to her. "Kyrr mentioned something about fertile seasons when he was talking to Ragnar."

"Do you remember what he said?"

"He told him that he would be stupid to provoke a female during that time," he said."

"That's right." Rory blinked slowly. "In an established pack, there comes a time of the year where fertility is increased. Children are hard to come by for werewolf women, so the entire pack takes advantage of that time."

Aldric turned around, his face unreadable. "So all the women in the Snowpoint Pack are going through that."

She rolled over onto her stomach. "Yes. The instinct can be overpowering. And that also means that all the unmated males will be competing for unmated females."

"Amon thinks that will happen to you," he stated. "That all the males will make a play for you."

"Not all of them."

"Oh." He looked relieved. "That's something, then."

She refused to look at him. "I proved my dominance by fighting Ragnar. Technically, I won that fight. That means that I'm stronger than the alpha's second."

He smiled. "You _are_ stronger than him."

"That may be true, but that means that only the most powerful males will be eligible."

Aldric's smile dropped. "And how many of those are there in the pack?"

"Amon is one of them. Ragnar is another, but he has a mate. Kyrr is the undisputed alpha, but packs can have more than one person dominant enough to be the alpha. We haven't been here long enough to know." She rubbed her face. "This is just perfect. Just what I needed."

Aldric was quiet for a long moment, thinking. "Seraph said that we weren't mated, but that we were close."

Rory flushed again, glad that he couldn't see it. "Yes."

"Does that upset you?"

She almost didn't answer. She knew that he meant to ask if she was angry. "No. I should have realized."

"What does that mean, to be mated?" he asked. "Is it like marriage?"

"It's deeper than marriage." She sat up to look at him. "It means that you are bonded to your mate for life. Your wolves and your souls are bonded for life. It's something you can feel, a tangible connection. If Seraph is truly a seer, and if he can sense energy and magic, then he would be able to see the bond between mates."

He raised his brows. "And you and I are close to that?"

Rory felt her irritation rise up. "I don't know. I don't know how much stock I put in his words."

"Why?"

"I don't like Seraph. I don't like his brother," she said flatly. "They unnerve me."

Aldric didn't have to tell her he had no love for Amon. She was pleased that he hadn't reacted jealously to the other man, but she knew that the longer they stayed with the pack, the more his tolerance would be tested.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she interrupted. "Let's just sleep for a bit. I'm tired." She could sense the questions he wanted to ask and wasn't ready for them.

Rory closed her eyes and rolled on her side. After a moment, she felt the mattress move as Aldric laid down next to her. Before he could cuddle to her from behind, she moved as far as possible to the edge.

She waited to see if he would follow, but he didn't.

She could not relax. Her body was tired, but her mind would not rest. Every time she thought of what Amon, Seraph and Lejla had said, her heart pounded faster with a mix of fear, confusion, and anxiety.

Forcing her mind to quiet, she nestled her head into the pillow, praying for sleep to come quickly.

* * *

Rory woke when a movement jostled her. Blinking, she opened her eyes to a very dark tent. Her senses were assaulted with the smell of cooked meat, unfamiliar voices, and the feel of a strange bed beneath her.

Just when her muscles began to tense, her nose filled with a scent. It was one she knew well, almost better than her own. She closed her eyes and breathed it in. _Aldric_. Even as she thought his name, her body had already relaxed, like it knew something she didn't—as if, just by recognizing his smell, safety had already been assured.

She rolled to follow the scent. He slept beside her, lying on his back. Rory already knew that that meant he was close to waking. She spent a moment just looking at his face, her eyes tracing his features.

Just like every other morning she had woken up next to him, she experienced the strong urge to get him naked and mate with him. He was warm, and his skin felt so wonderful under her hands, and he smelled so good.

His cuirass had ridden up in his sleep, stretched by his arm flung up around his head. She contented herself with sliding her hand beneath it, stroking the firm planes of his stomach. The thin trail of hair under her palm seemed to drag her hand downward until her fingers dipped below his belt buckle.

Rory stopped herself. All the thoughts she'd had before she fell asleep came back. As stress washed over her again, she pulled her hand back. The movement was too abrupt, and Aldric woke.

He looked at her with sleepy eyes. "Hello."

_Damn him_. "Hello," she answered after a second.

"I smell food."

She snorted. "The pack is eating." She pulled away from him and sat up.

His hand curled around her hip. "Aren't we supposed to eat with Kyrr?"

"And his family," she said.

He grumbled inarticulately as he pulled himself to his feet. "Let's do it."

* * *

Rory could feel dozens of eyes on them as they emerged from their tent and began to walk up to Kyrr's home. Everyone was engaged in eating supper with their families, except for Kaspar, who was waiting not far from their quarters.

Rory frowned. "How long have you been standing there?"

Kaspar shrugged. "An hour, maybe more. I am to escort you."

"Why?"

"Ragnar has told me to assist you while you are here," he said simply.

She shook her head. "We can find our own way around, Kaspar, you don't have to do this."

Kaspar grinned at her. "Yes, I do, but it is not a problem."

"Will you eat with us, Kaspar?" Aldric asked him as they began to walk again.

"Oh, no." The scout chuckled. "Sharing in the alpha's food is permitted only for the highest-ranking among us. I am far from that."

Rory could tell Aldric was considering asking him to join them. "Thank you for walking us, Kaspar. Have a good evening."

He nodded good-naturedly to her. Rory walked beyond the border of the last lodges toward the cabin and found that Aldric wasn't next to her. Turning to find him, she saw that he was a few feet behind her, watching Kaspar.

The scout had stationed himself with his back to them, clearly standing watch at the edge of the open space. Rory looked at Aldric, and then sighed.

"What are you doing, Kaspar?" she asked him, trudging back through the snow.

"Waiting for you," he replied, as if it were obvious.

"And how long will you wait?"

"Until you return."

She frowned. "And what happens when we go to bed down for the night?"

"I will wait outside for you to wake up."

"But when will you sleep or eat, Kaspar?" Aldric asked, concerned.

He frowned, like it had just occurred to him. "Ah…well…I'm sure I will think of something. Do not trouble yourself with it."

Kaspar then saw something over Rory's shoulder, and his expression faltered. Before Rory could turn around, Ragnar walked past them on his way into the camp. His shoulder slammed into Kaspar's as he went, knocking the smaller man aside.

The scout fought valiantly to keep a stoic face. Rory gritted her teeth and left him alone to recover his dignity.

Aldric leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Can we stop that?"

She wanted badly to tell him they could. "No. Ragnar is within his rights as Kaspar's superior."

He looked torn. "Kaspar doesn't deserve that."

"No, he doesn't." She took him by the hand. "This is pack life, Aldric. Some things aren't fair."

Ahead of them, the cookfire blazed. An entire deer hung from the spit, antlers and all. Two young men manned either end of it, turning it evenly. Kyrr and Lejla sat in a place of prominence beyond it, just visible through the fire.

A small child, no older than two or three years, raced past Rory. His feet could not keep up with his legs, and he suddenly went down hard in the snow. He froze for a second, and then began to cry.

Before Rory could stop him, Aldric had bent over and was lifting the boy back onto his feet. The child wrapped both arms around one of Aldric's legs, burying his face into the leather of his trousers as he sniffled. Comfortingly, Aldric reached down and patted him. His hand covered the child's entire head.

When the boy had had enough, he pulled back and beamed toothily at Aldric before scampering off again. Rory looked at the faces around her. Some had seen the encounter and were smiling and shaking their heads at the little boy's antics.

So they truly had been made friends of the pack. The title was one of great trust and honor. Rory could not remember if she'd ever seen _anyone_ granted the privilege in her six years with the pack.

When they drew up on the other side of the fire, Kyrr grinned up at them from his position on the log bench. "I think my son is fond of you," he called over the sound around them.

"He was yours?" Aldric asked.

The alpha nodded proudly. "Niko. He will reach his fourth birthday next month."

Niko charged around the fire at top speed with a ladle in his hand, the earlier trauma forgotten. Lejla chased after him, scolding like a clucking hen. "He's very spirited."

Kyrr laughed. "He exhausts my mate. I told her the blame lies with her. I was a very calm boy!"

Rory smiled. Andreas had been a remarkably patient, levelheaded man. Very slow to anger or rash action, he was the epitome of serene leadership. It was not hard to imagine those traits being passed onto his son, even as a child.

The meal stretched on for hours. Many dishes were passed around; venison, roast fowl stuffed with root vegetables and garlic, grilled leeks, seared lamb served with a snowberry jelly. After eating sparsely on the road, the supper was like a feast to the two of them.

Mead was everywhere. There had to have been barrels of it somewhere. Every time Rory's cup was drained, a fresh, foaming one was pushed into her hand. Soon enough, a bright, warm flush colored her cheeks. She couldn't remember laughing so much in one day.

All modesty left her as well. When the food was gone, she let Aldric pull her into his lap under the guise of warding off the cold. Her face buried in his neck, she listened to Kyrr and his family and friends recount stories and old memories.

At the feeling of her lips against his skin, Aldric turned to her with a smile. She kissed him deeply, briefly forgetting where she was. When she shifted to wrap her legs around his waist, the entire gathering broke out in clapping and cheers. She pulled back, face burning, and Aldric laughed along with them.

Still blushing, she sat back on the bench next to him. When she looked up, Amon was staring openly at her, his face devoid of amusement. The look of hunger in his eyes sobered her up quickly enough.

Rory had hoped she could avoid him for the night, but when she came stumbling back to the crowd after making water for the third time, he blocked her path.

"And what do you want?" she demanded, uninterested in diplomacy.

Standing with the fire at his back, she couldn't make out the expression on his face. "Just a moment alone."

She pushed past him, but he stopped her with a touch of his hand on her wrist.

"You seem familiar to me," he persisted. "Something I cannot place." He turned to her so that his face was visible in the light. His eyes were troubled.

"We've never met." Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, and suddenly she was annoyed with herself for drinking so much.

"That, I am entirely sure of. You are unlike any woman I have ever met before." He wasted a smile on her. "But there's something about you…something I cannot recall. The feeling is like waking from a dream and feeling it slip away from you. The more I concentrate, the more it hides from me."

"Perhaps you should talk to your brother about that," Rory suggested. "He is a seer, after all."

Amon looked across the fire to where Seraph sat. "My brother's gift is not so specific as that."

A particularly strong gust of wind swept over the mountaintop and stirred Rory's hair. "I'm going back to the fire."

He turned to her again. Moving too close for politeness, he leaned over her and smelled her. "I will remember. And tonight, I think I will dream of your eyes."

His scent washed over her. He smelled of wolf, but he was not nearly as pleasing as Aldric was to her. She turned her head away and made eye contact with the man in question, who was watching the two of them with a grim face.

Aldric didn't say anything to her when she came back and pulled him to his feet. She held his hand, hoping that the silent touch would ease his worries.

Kyrr was speaking softly to Lejla, with Niko fast asleep on her lap. He caught her gaze as they started to walk away and lifted a hand to her. "My apologies, Rory and Aldric. The evening has grown too late to speak further. Tomorrow, I will send for you." He turned to his mate and gave her a kiss. "Tonight, we will sleep off the festivities and work to create new life."

Aldric's grip on her hand tightened a fraction. "Until tomorrow, then," he said.

As they made their way back to their lodge, they passed more than a few tents where moaning and muffled shouts could be heard. A time or two, they walked past someone's quarters where the flap had not been lowered, and Rory caught a glimpse of a tangle of arms and legs on the ground.

The look of discomfort on Aldric's face made her grin. "Don't watch," she admonished him.

Startled, he darted a look at her before immediately looking away. "I wasn't."

A woman ran past the two of them, half-dressed and giggling uncontrollably. Rory stepped out of her path as a man followed in hot pursuit. "This isn't uncommon for the time."

He followed her and lowered the roll of the tent opening. "Are you going through that?"

The question surprised her. "Going through what?"

He shrugged, nodding to the outside of the tent. "The urge."

She blushed. "No. I'm not part of this pack. And I wouldn't be the only one feeling it if I were, either."

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"The males feel it too." Rory kicked her boots off. "Right now, you'd be chasing after the woman you'd set your sights on, barely able to control yourself."

Aldric looked directly at her. "I already feel that."

The blush threatened to burst into a heat that would wash over her entire body. "That's not the same."

"I still have questions from our talk earlier," he said, changing the subject.

"Do we have to talk about this right now?" The mead still filled her head.

He ignored her. "What constitutes being mated to someone?"

This was precisely the question she'd been avoiding. "It grows. Living with them, sleeping together, hunting together. Making love."

Aldric spoke quietly. "We've done all of that."

Rory gave a bitter laugh. "No, Aldric. There needs to be a chance of conceiving to seal the bond. The act itself isn't what does it—pack members are together all the time. It's the emotion between two people _during_."

Finally, he looked away. "So we can't be together that way, or we can? Which is it?"

Angrily, she snapped, "What are you getting at here? What do you want me to say?"

He met her eyes again, looking frustrated. "I want you to be honest."

"I _am_ honest with you."

"Not all the time," he pointed out. "You push me away, even though I know you want me the way I want you. Why?"

Tears threatened, swelling in her throat. "You don't want to be bonded to me, Aldric. I promise you that."

"You don't know what I want!" he said heatedly, his voice raised.

It was the first time she'd seen a crack in his everlasting patience. Hiding her surprise, she watched him pace away from her to the other side of the tent.

He shook his head. "So I'm supposed to spend my time here watching other men—watching Amon—all over you, and I can't do anything about it."

"And that bothers you because all the other boys want to play with your toy?" she asked snidely. "I'm not your property. You don't own me."

His big hand lashed out and slapped at the rack of weapons. It clattered to the ground with a crash. "It bothers me because I'm in love with you!"

Her mouth dropped open. For a long second, she felt like all the air had been squeezed from her chest. Emotions warred in her head, each one gaining supremacy briefly before succumbing to another. Fear, pleasure, frustration, sorrow, excitement, anticipation, anger.

Aldric turned away from her, running a hand through his hair. After it became apparent to him that she wasn't going to say anything, he lifted the tent flap and left.

Rory sat on the bed, wishing she could dig a very deep hole and bury herself inside of it. She cursed at her own stupidity. Why did she think she could get close to Aldric and somehow avoid this?

She had sworn to herself to never take another mate again, but the thought of leaving Aldric—of never touching him again or watching him sleep next to her—was excruciating. Her body shuddered when she considered what that would be like, to walk away from him forever.

Thoroughly lost, she bent her head and groaned into her pillow.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:** Moderate violence and semi-graphic injuries in this one. Just think of it as preparation for something that will be happening in a couple of chapters! ;-)

* * *

**Chapter 25**

Aldric wished at that moment that he had something more substantial than a length of hide to leave behind. It would have been so much more satisfying to slam a door as hard as he could.

Then he shook his head at himself. That was childish. Even if he was angry, it didn't give him the right to storm around and be destructive.

He took a deep breath. An intense chill had settled over the mountains now that the sun had been down for hours. The wind that blew over the stone and ice was breathtaking in its frostiness. Even with his beast blood and his natural adaptation to the weather as a Nord, the cold was something to consider.

Aldric began to walk away from the tent, away from Kyrr's home, down in the direction of the watchtower. He could still feel Rory's presence inside the tent like a glowing coal.

Footsteps behind him stopped him. He turned to see Kaspar following him. "Kaspar, please stay behind."

The scout shrugged a little. "I am sorry, but I must accompany you."

"This is not a good time. I have a problem, and I'd like to be alone right now." Without waiting for a response, he resumed his path down the mountain.

"You have problems with your woman?" Kaspar asked, trotting a little to keep up with him.

Aldric gritted his teeth, and then let it go. If Kaspar had to follow, then he could follow. "She's not my woman."

"Oh," Kaspar said in a knowing tone, as if that explained it all. "You want her to be."

"Kaspar, come on."

"My apologies."

Only the sound of their boots crunching through the snow was heard for a while. Most of the pack members were inside their tents; only one or two of them wandered around the camp. No one bothered to engage them.

A thought must have occurred to Kaspar. "You are not leaving, are you?"

"No, I'm not leaving."

"Good." The relief could be heard in his voice. "Sometimes I have woman problems, too. They make you so angry sometimes, right?"

Aldric stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Rory can't help it. I think she has issues from her past that make trusting anyone difficult."

"I see." The scout looked at the ground, struggling for words. "I would not worry about the other males. It is plain to anyone that the two of you have forged a connection."

Aldric narrowed his eyes. "I'm not worried about the other males."

"Even Amon?" Kaspar blurted, and then looked abashed. "My apologies. I should not pry."

"Amon bothers me in the way that a bee buzzing around my head bothers me," Aldric said dryly.

"That is a good way to think." Kaspar nodded approvingly.

"How long has he been with the pack?" Aldric asked him.

"Ah…about eight years." Kaspar scratched at his head. "He and his brother showed up one day. Kyrr was not looking to accept anyone, but Seraph is talented and we lacked a wise woman."

"What exactly is a wise woman?" Rory had given him information about pack life, but she had neglected to mention anything about that.

"She is a female of great importance, chosen among the young and unmated. We also call her 'mother.' The mother delivers babies, heals the sick and wounded, and provides the proper rituals when there is a death," Kaspar explained. "Seraph is also a seer, which is rare. Seers can commune with Hircine himself, and advise the pack leader on difficult matters. I have heard it said that seers can even glimpse the future."

Aldric frowned. "Does Kyrr listen to Seraph?"

Kaspar looked confused. "I am sure he does. We have not been led astray since the brothers have been with us."

"And what does Amon do, if his brother is so talented?"

"Amon…" Kaspar shrugged and looked away. "Amon is powerful, a very strong male. Kyrr welcomed him as a fighter and a protector of the pack. The brothers do not go anywhere without one another. I believe Amon protects Seraph, makes sure that no harm comes to him."

"Seraph can't fight for himself?"

"I am sure he can, but he does not wish to." Kaspar looked surprised at the question. "As a healer and a seer, he must have considered the sides of peace and violence and chosen peace."

Aldric considered that. "And neither of them have mates."

Kaspar laughed. "The mother does not take a mate. Since Seraph is in that place, he follows tradition."

"And Amon?"

He shrugged again. "Amon takes women when he desires them. But no, he has not taken a mate. Many females have been interested in him for years; it is remarkable to all of us that your companion seems to have caught his eye. But it is obvious why she does."

"Is it?" he wondered inattentively, thinking.

"Of course. Besides being beautiful and young, she bested Ragnar in a fight. Ragnar is Kyrr's second. If Kyrr did not have his own mate, I am sure he would be after her himself. In fact…" Kaspar trailed off, a shocked look coming over his face.

"What's the matter?" Aldric asked him.

Kaspar would not quite make eye contact with him. "It is nothing."

Intrigued, Aldric persisted. "What were you going to say?"

"I should not."

"Tell me," he commanded.

At the tone of Aldric's voice, Kaspar wilted. "That must be why Kyrr has been so quick to name you friends of the pack, and give you the place of honor with his family…he considers you another pack."

"Another _pack_?" Aldric repeated. "That can't be, there are only two of us."

"Yes, but that is how packs are formed—an alpha male and alpha female come together and bond. Then they may begin to accept lone wolves that approach them." Kaspar's face suddenly lit up. "Aldric, you could be my pack leader!"

Aldric blinked. "But Kyrr is your pack leader."

"I am unhappy here, with Snowpoint. I was taken in as a boy that had barely become a man, and I have never truly been accepted by the others," he admitted. "There are other males weaker than I, but Ragnar has tormented me from very early on. I cannot win a fight against him, so I must tolerate him."

"Kaspar…" Aldric began.

"I have not found any females here that interest me. I would like to take a mate some day and father children," the man said. "I do not fight well, but I am very fast and an excellent scout!"

"Kaspar!" Aldric stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I like you, but Rory and I are not a pack. We're not accepting anyone."

He felt Kaspar sag a little under his touch. "That is fine, I suppose."

Aldric had to chuckle a little at his enthusiasm. He really did like the other man; there was something happy and carefree about him, despite all the difficulties in his life. "Why don't we do something fun?"

Kaspar's brow rose. "Fun?"

"Let's hunt."

The scout shook his head, a little too fast. "Oh, no. We are not supposed to go out alone."

"We're not alone; you're with me, and I'm with you," Aldric persuaded.

"Well…you _are_ very strong." Kaspar thought a moment. "We should not go far or be away for too long."

"Of course not," Aldric agreed. He was already beginning to pull his armor off.

He and Kaspar shared boyish grins of excitement as they undressed. It had been a long time since Aldric had shifted just to run and relieve pressure. Kodlak had frowned upon it, and running with Skjor and Aela proved to be awkward when they ended every kill by making love next to it.

Aldric was surprised by how much easier and fluid it was to begin his change. After meditating on it with Rory, the decision was almost thoughtless. As he doubled over onto the ground, he was even more surprised that much of the pain associated with the change was no longer there.

He knelt on the ground, fully shifted, and caught his breath. Looking to his side, he could see that Kaspar was still midway through his own change. Aldric wondered if his superior status made his change faster.

Kaspar shook his shaggy head, flecks of wet snow flying everywhere. When they stood, Aldric towered a full foot over the other wolf. Kaspar noticed too, looking up at him. The scout looked into his eyes, and then bolted off to the southwest.

Aldric gave chase. Kaspar had been right about one thing—he was very fast. The other wolf found level ground and dropped to all fours, and his speed doubled. Aldric mimicked him, using the long claws of his hands to dig into the ground and find purchase.

Before Kaspar reached the trees, Aldric pushed off his hind legs with all his might and tackled him. The two rolled several times before crashing into a deep drift of snow. Shaking the powder off, Kaspar gave a coughing sound that Aldric recognized as laughing.

It felt so good to stretch his muscles, to forget about what was going on and full on _run_ as fast as he possibly could. They took turns leading and investigating scent trails; Kaspar found an elk and they pursued it, but not seriously. When the swift creature began to lose them in the trees, they gave up and ran some more.

Aldric came across a goat almost by accident and took it down. The animal was small, but they shared the kill. Wiping his muzzle clean of blood in the snow, he gestured in the general direction of the watchtower. Kaspar caught his meaning and nodded.

They had ended up nearly at Lake Yorgrim. Running through the trees bordering the water, they reached the road and began to sprint toward Snowpoint Beacon. A blizzard had swept down from the sky, unsurprisingly. Visibility was low, and they relied on their noses and ears more than their eyes.

Aldric caught an alarming scent a split second before a looming figure approached out of the swirling snow. He skidded to a halt, his claws scrabbling on the stones. Kaspar did not stop as quickly, and bounded past him toward the figure.

A giant leading a mammoth was in the process of crossing the road. When it caught sight of Kaspar, he lifted his massive club from its perch across his shoulder and bellowed a warning. Kaspar froze, looking up at the giant with his tail drooping between his legs.

The club, nearly as tall and wide as a man, swung down and connected with Kaspar before Aldric could do anything. A high-pitched yelp tore from the smaller wolf. He slammed into the ground and rolled once, his body limp. He didn't move.

Fear for his friend coursing through him, Aldric charged the giant. He roared as he ran, and the giant turned slowly to face him, swinging his weapon. The club whistled through the air over his head as it missed, and he sprang at the giant, sinking his fangs into the meat of his upper thigh.

He came away with a gobbet of flesh and tendon in his mouth. He spat it out into the snow and raced in a wide loop to come at the giant again. The creature had its back turned to him, still searching for him. This time he lunged at the giant's arm, and he let it feel his strength as he yanked it to its knees.

A trumpeting call sounded behind him, just as the mammoth tossed its head. Its long tusk crashed into Aldric, sending him flying yards away. The furry beast turned to him, stomping its colossal feet on the ground.

Aldric hesitated. He could fight the giant, or he could fight the mammoth; both at once, he could not do.

Luckily, the giant made the decision for him. The wound on his leg, gushing red, and the torn puncture wounds of Aldric's teeth in his arm must have been convincing enough. The creature picked up his club and began to hobble away, pulling the mammoth by its tusk.

Aldric loped to Kaspar's still form on the ground. Distantly, he thought with sorrow that he could not live with himself if he had gotten the scout killed doing something they were not supposed to be doing.

He sniffed at the other wolf. Blood streamed from a wound on his shoulder, pooling on the ground. Kaspar's heart still beat, however, and Aldric nudged at him. After a second, the scout came to, lifting his head to search the area.

He looked at Aldric questioningly. Aldric shook his head at him, indicating the giant was gone. Slowly, Kaspar began to push to his feet, and then whined when he put weight on his left arm. He buckled and collapsed into the snow again.

Aldric helped him get up, using his head and neck to support Kaspar until he could stand. Kaspar clutched his arm to his chest, and even through his thick fur Aldric could tell something was very wrong with the limb.

They ran as best they could through the blizzard back to the pack. The tower was almost in sight when Kaspar stopped, going down on a knee. He whimpered as he shifted back to his human form, and when the change was complete he cried out.

Aldric looked down at him. His left shoulder was painted in a spectacularly colored array of bruises, ranging from deep purple, to nearly black, to indigo and blue. Bulging horrifically, the bone stretched under his skin in a way that was clearly wrong. Gasping at the sight, he forced himself to concentrate as he shifted back.

Supporting Kaspar from the right, they hobbled back to the tower. The other man groaned with each step that jostled his shoulder. Carefully, he set Kaspar down on the ground outside the tower and dressed in his trousers quickly, jamming his numb feet into his boots.

He lifted Kaspar up again and grabbed him around the waist. They moved awkwardly into the camp, and Aldric did his best to rebuff the few pack members that were awake at the hour.

They stumbled before Kyrr's cabin, and a young man came running out from his post inside.

"What happened?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"A giant attacked us," Aldric grunted, hefting Kaspar up as delicately as he could. "He's hurt badly, he needs help. Get Seraph."

"A giant? Is it near the pack?"

Tersely, he answered with, "No. It was far from here, near the lake."

The boy frowned. "Why were you near the lake? We're not supposed to separate at night."

"GET SERAPH!" Aldric thundered, losing his patience.

Flinching, the boy backed up and ran into the cabin, his face pale. Aldric gently lowered Kaspar to the ground, kneeling next to him. A moment passed, and then footsteps approached from behind him.

Seraph knelt beside Kaspar. Dressed only in leather pants and barefoot, he looked up through the long spill of his golden hair at Aldric. "What has happened?"

Aldric gestured to his shoulder. "He was struck by a giant's club."

Seraph leaned over Kaspar, examining his arm gently with his fingertips. Across his shoulder blade, a long gash stretched—at Seraph's touch, it proved to be a wide flap of skin that had completely separated from Kaspar's shoulder. Blood rolled from the wound, and Kaspar contorted in pain.

Aldric's stomach lurched at the sight. He'd seen his share of bad wounds, but this one was new. Seraph delicately lifted the skin flap, and dark muscle glistened beneath the wound.

"The boy said you were out near the lake," came a voice behind Aldric.

He turned to see Amon standing there, his hair rumpled with sleep. "We were running together. He didn't see the giant."

"This is why we don't go out alone at night," Amon said, a touch of anger behind his words. "It's dangerous."

Aldric ignored him. He knew he was responsible for what had happened.

Seraph stood. "I will need to get him inside. Amon, Aldric, you will need to carry him."

Amon stepped forward, but Aldric blocked him. He slung Kaspar's uninjured arm around his neck and then gathered the rest of him into his arms. Kaspar cradled his left arm to his chest and rolled inward to face Aldric.

Amon's face was unreadable. "How sweet."

Seraph merely nodded at him and began to walk inside. Aldric followed him until they nearly reached the end of the hall. Seraph led the way inside his quarters, where a large wooden table waited, the surface cleared of objects.

The blond man spread a thick blanket over the table, and Aldric set him down. Kaspar rolled onto his right side, leaving his wounded arm clear for tending.

Seraph looked at Aldric. "The bone has separated inside of his shoulder. Think of the joint as an interlocking device that snaps together." He cupped his open palm over his opposite fist. "I will need to push the bone back into its proper place."

"All right." Aldric swallowed.

"You will need to assist me. The process is, naturally, extremely painful, and Kaspar will need to remain very still lest he interrupt me." Seraph looked down at Kaspar. "Do you hear me, my friend? You must be still."

The scout made a sound of assent through his clenched teeth.

Seraph handed Aldric a thick strip of leather. "He may find it beneficial to bite down on this."

Kaspar took the leather and stuffed it into his mouth. Sweat poured down his face as he lay back on his side. His eyes, showing too much white, rolled this way and that as he looked around.

"I'm sorry, Kaspar," Aldric murmured to him.

He pressed a hand down firmly on the other man's hip and held his uninjured shoulder awkwardly. Seraph maneuvered between them and tightly gripped Kaspar's left bicep in his hand. His other hand grasped Kaspar's shoulder near his neck.

At the pressure, Kaspar began to struggle. Aldric ended up having to put most of his weight on the smaller man to hold him down. Seraph looked over at him and gave him a curt nod.

"I will count to five, and then I will push the joint back together," Seraph told Kaspar. Kaspar nodded tightly. "One—two—_three_—"

With a sound somewhere between a pop and a crunch, Seraph swiftly jerked Kaspar's arm up while he manipulated the shoulder with his other hand. Kaspar screamed, the sound muffled through the hide in his mouth, and then went limp.

"What happened?" Alarmed, Aldric stepped back.

Seraph rested Kaspar's arm carefully in front of his chest. "He has lost consciousness. That happens quite often," he said evenly. Blood had begun to roll in a sheet down Kaspar's back from the sliced skin, and he pressed a square of linen over it. "You should fetch Kyrr. He will want to know what has happened, if he has not been informed already."

Aldric nodded wordlessly and began to back out of the room. He began to think over what he could possibly say to Kyrr about what had happened, feeling terrible.

He quietly entered Kyrr's quarters. The sitting room the doors opened into was empty, and he moved to the door that connected to Kyrr's bedchamber. Hearing low voices inside, he turned the handle and walked inside.

Lejla was sitting up in the bed she shared with her mate, her long crimson braid draped over her shoulder. She looked tiredly at Aldric. Kyrr stood in the middle of the room, holding the shoulders of someone he'd never seen before.

The man in front of Kyrr possessed the frame of someone that had started out life strong and tall, but age had cut his body down. White hair, fine as thread but plentiful, grew from his head and dusted his shoulders. He still grew a beard, trimmed closely to his jaw.

Stooping only slightly, the elderly man turned to look at Aldric. He and Kyrr had clearly been in the middle of an argument. "And who are you, hmm?"

Kyrr shot Aldric a mildly annoyed look. "Do not mind my father, Aldric. He is very old and should not be up and about by himself." The last part of his sentence was clearly directed at the man.

Before Aldric could respond, raised voices sounded behind him. He looked over his shoulder when his ears picked out Rory's voice among them. The unmistakable sound of a hand slapping a face rang out, and then stomping footfalls grew closer.

Rory burst into the room, eyes bright with anger. Amon followed close on her heels, holding the left side of his face.

Her eyes lit on Aldric and took in the blood on his torso and his partially undressed state. "They said you were back here but wouldn't let me in. What happened? Are you all right?"

"Yes, what happened?" Kyrr asked. "Amon, you may leave us." He waited until the other man had left before speaking again. "I heard Seraph's voice, and someone in pain. Has someone been injured?"

Rory stepped closer to examine Aldric, her eyes roving over his body, searching for wounds. She smelled the blood on his chest. "Not yours. Kaspar's?"

"Kaspar has been hurt?" Kyrr said.

They both turned to him. For the first time, Rory became aware of the person standing in front of the alpha. She went very still, and Aldric turned in time to see every drop of blood drain from her face.

Kyrr noticed her reaction as well and frowned. "What is it?"

"My eyes might be failing," the old man said, "but they would recognize you even on their dimmest day."

Aldric was sure Rory had stopped breathing.

"What are you talking about, father?" Kyrr touched the man's head. "You have never seen these people before. They are new, just arrived yesterday."

The man waved his son's hand away, never taking his eyes from Rory. "On the contrary, Kyrr. More than fifty years ago, I was her alpha, and I would not forget this woman no matter how many years I have spent on this planet."

"Andreas," Rory breathed.

"I believe, my dear," said Andreas, "that you have a bit of explaining to do."


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: **I'm terrible with cliffhangers, I know.

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**Chapter 26**

Kyrr still looked confused and faintly irritated with Andreas. "Father…" he began, gently. "You must be having a bad night. Rory is young, not yet past thirty." The alpha looked over at her. "I am sorry. You must look very like someone he once knew."

Aldric watched Rory's pale face as she licked her lips. "He's not wrong."

Kyrr cocked his head. "I do not understand."

"Andreas was my pack leader. Fifty years ago, when _he_ was young. He was mated to your mother, and the two of them didn't have children yet." Rory locked eyes with Andreas. "I assume Kyrr was born after I left."

The old man looked proud. "Kyrr and Ragnar were gifted to my mate and I by Hircine when I was well past my fortieth year. They were very unexpected blessings. The pack celebrated for a month. You and Maksim would have enjoyed it."

Aldric bristled at the mention of the unfamiliar man's name. He couldn't tell if he was imagining the way Rory also seemed to flinch at the name.

"What is happening?" Kyrr demanded, interrupting his father. "How is it possible that you knew my father so long ago?" Realization began to dawn on his face, and he backed up a step. "What are you?"

Lejla stood up and crossed the room to stand by her mate. Her face had shut down, and she watched the two of them with guarded eyes.

Andreas sat heavily in a chair near the door. "I think I can inform my son of the details…if you will allow me, Aurora." He looked to her for permission.

She nodded.

"When I was a boy, and my father—your grandfather, Kyrr—led the Snowpoint Pack, we often shared tales and legends around the fire at night. He told me many things that both excited and terrified me." He fixed his gaze across the room, as if he were looking into his past.

"One night, the mother—our wise woman—began to tell the story of a young woman in the pack, many years before my birth, that was bewitched by a powerful vampire that preyed on young women.

Her mother and father, fearing for the safety of the pack, banished her. This was not something easily done in a pack of our size. To send away a female capable of having children, and a strong one at that, was a difficult decision. They mourned for a long time.

Then, not long after, she returned to them. They were overjoyed, hoping that she had broken free of the vampire's spell. Instead, she brought with her the news that she carried his child. She was fearful of something and begged to be taken in again, begged to rejoin her family.

This time, they told her that she would be killed if she ever tried to return to the pack. Heartbroken, the young woman left once again. The mother that told this story was very old, and my father stayed in respectful silence as she spoke, though he normally discouraged speaking of vampires and other monsters.

Later that night, as he tucked me into my bed, he told me that when my own grandfather was a young man, he had witnessed this for himself—that the woman bewitched by the vampire had been the older sister of the old wise woman that had told the story.

I asked him more about the mother. He told me that she was very gifted, that she could see the future in her dreams at night when she slept.

After her sister was banished, their father was driven to the edge of his sanity and was killed when he tried to raid a vampire's lair far from our home. It was not long after that when the girl rose to the position of being our mother.

She passed away in her sleep the same year she told me the story. Not long after I had assumed the role of pack leader, a strange young woman came to us." He smiled at Rory. "I was young, and wary of taking in a lone wolf, but she proved very valuable in combat. I began to notice, over time, that something was very different about her.

Her unusual eyes, which captivated many, first piqued my interest. Then I came to fixate on her scent—which smelled of wolf, and yet something else. She was very strong as well, capable of easily defeating our strongest males.

I do not know how I came to the conclusion. Perhaps it was a remnant of my fascination as a young boy with our superstitious lore; perhaps it was something else. But I was suddenly certain that Aurora was the product of the banished pack member and the vampire."

"You knew?" Rory whispered. Her voice trembled.

Andreas gave her a gentle smile. "Two years after you came to us."

"My aunt was a seer? And your wise woman?" she asked him. "My mother…she never said…"

"Father," Kyrr barked sharply. "You mean to tell me that this woman is a half-breed? That her father was the vampire that ensnared a pack member?"

Andreas nodded patiently.

Lejla's face was white. Kyrr stepped in front of his mate defensively. "You knew about an evil like that and did nothing? You failed to protect your pack?"

"Watch your tongue, my son." Strength filled Andreas's voice. "Have you sensed evil from this woman? Has anything about her prickled at the back of your mind, made you uncertain?"

"The same as you, I have noticed something strange about her." Kyrr began to get angry. "How do you know that she merely conceals her true nature from you? How do you know she doesn't work with her father to further trap our pack?"

"My father is dead," Rory snapped. "My mother died when she gave birth to my little sister. I came to you—"

Kyrr gestured to her with his hand. "Your sister! So there is another one of you!"

"I brought you what I found when vampires that knew my father tried to kill me!" Rory persisted. "I wanted to keep what has happened to me from happening to you! And I'd like to assure everyone present that my father did not _bewitch_ my mother. He fell very much in love with her, something that she readily returned."

Kyrr scoffed. "How do I know you speak the truth?"

It was plain to Aldric that the situation was rapidly devolving. He was afraid that Kyrr's fear of the unknown would lead him to drive the two of them out. "Kyrr, please listen."

"You." The young alpha rounded on him with a glare. "Are you another one? Do you aim to destroy us?"

"Enough!" Andreas boomed. Shakily, he hauled himself to his feet. "Enough, Kyrr. I did not raise you this way, to shame your family with this prejudice. I have seen the violence and destruction that vampires have wrought against our kind, and yet I am sensible enough to understand that not every one of them holds the same hatred.

For six years, Aurora lived with this pack and protected us. She fought against every threat that we came across. She bonded with one of our males and strove to provide us with children. She was loyal and good—and now I count on you for the same qualities. Where is the patience and wisdom I taught you?"

When he'd finished speaking, he wavered on his feet and almost lost his balance. Kyrr rushed forward to steady him, murmuring with concern. "Father."

Sitting once more, Andreas looked up at his son. "Kyrr. I have put my faith in her, and now I ask you to do the same."

The pack leader frowned down at him. "For only six years to have earned such trust from you, she must have done something of great importance."

"Your mother would not have lived if Aurora had not risked her own life to save her. You, and your brother, would not have existed if not for her." The old man reached up to touch Kyrr's face.

Kyrr looked up at Rory. "Is this true?"

"The Silver Hand killed your mother's best friend, Galina, and her mate." Rory stared at him. "I knew Kaya had been with them on a hunt. Galina's body was strung up outside one of their camps. Kaya was held inside."

"And you went in alone to get her?" he asked, disbelieving.

"Yes," she replied calmly. "And I would have lost my right leg if not for the guidance of your father to control my shifting. The change healed me, with some help from my own abilities."

Kyrr looked back at Lejla. Some unspoken exchange occurred, and then he turned back to them. "Then I owe you much."

Relief flooded Aldric so strongly that he suddenly felt tired.

"You don't owe me anything, Kyrr. I don't ask you to accept me for what I am, only that you help us."

"And now, it is time that _I _am informed of what is happening," Andreas said.

"The clan my father was from wants my sister," Rory explained. "They've been trying to capture her and kill me since she was born."

"Why?" inquired Andreas. "Simply for revenge?"

Rory shook her head. "They want her because she's powerful. Or," she amended, "she will be, when she's grown. She's only a child now."

Kyrr's face darkened. "Were you ever going to tell me of this?"

Rory sighed. "I don't know, Kyrr. I'm not fond of lying. I was going to tell you a partial truth. It never crossed my mind, ever, that Andreas might still be alive. If he hadn't been here, and I was honest about my past, you would have driven us out. That letter I showed you is the only thing we have to chase. Without that, I am clueless."

"So you want to drag my pack into the middle of this war you have with the vampires," Kyrr asserted.

Aldric spoke up. "No. The two of us can handle this alone. We're not asking for fighters, or shelter to hide. We need your help to spring a trap for the vampires that will eventually travel here. Once they arrive, we will trace their point of origin. When we know where they came from, we will leave for that place."

The pack leader's eyes traveled Aldric up and down. "I believe my father's tale of Rory's strength, and her own claim of her abilities. I believe that she must possess untold power. But _you_, Aldric…how can you hope to face these monsters alongside her? You must have a secret as well. You cannot be an ordinary wolf. If you are not a hybrid creature the way she is, then what are you?"

Rory glanced at him. Kyrr was far sharper than they had realized. Aldric had not expected this question, not unless he had demonstrated his powers.

If at all possible, he wanted to avoid telling anyone within the pack that he was dovahkiin. After the completion of his 'destiny' by slaying Alduin, it was his intention for the Dragonborn of legend to slowly fade into history.

Even the Companions and the members of the Thieves Guild did not know. Brynjolf and Karliah had been informed only because he'd had to Shout inside Irkngthand during their pursuit of the corrupt former Guildmaster, Mercer Frey.

"I need you to trust me, Kyrr," he finally said. "Rory and I are fully capable of doing this alone."

Kyrr looked like he had been ready for that answer. "Allow me to pose another question. It is entirely possible that these vampires had another plan in case the two designated to travel here never arrived. What will you do if nothing happens—if they simply assume, correctly, that the agents they sent were killed?"

Aldric had been asking himself that question since they'd made the decision to travel to Snowpoint. "Truthfully, I don't know. In the event that becomes clear, we will make another plan and leave."

"I don't believe they're that cautious," Rory objected. "My home, where they attacked, is in ashes. It's destroyed. It will not be hard for them to figure out that they were correct about where I was living, since the three they sent never came back. They will follow the trail to my home, and then this pack—they would not be able to resist investigating."

A chill surged through Aldric's veins. "What if…" he cleared his throat when his voice cracked. "What if the note was in the vampire's possession on purpose?"

Everyone turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?" asked Kyrr.

"They wouldn't need to write instructions on a piece of paper and give it to the vampire. Even if the letter was mailed to them from a remote place, the vampire would have just read it and then destroyed it. It makes no sense to keep it. The letter was not full of detailed directions—it had two simple sentences."

Rory sucked in a breath when she understood. "Aldric means to say that he thinks the letter was there on purpose. That whoever wrote it knew that those vampires would die and that I would find it."

"And that you would follow the clues to the pack," Andreas finished for her softly.

Kyrr paled so completely that even his lips lost their color. "You have not sprung a trap…you have walked into one."

"_Stupid!_" Rory growled, pacing. "So _obvious_!"

"Amon!" Kyrr shouted.

Seconds later, the werewolf in question opened the door, alarmed. "What is it?"

"You must prepare. Now. The pack is about to be attacked. Gather the men."

Amon blinked in shock. "Attacked by what?"

"Vampires. The ones we talked about earlier."

"Kyrr…" the words Amon didn't say spoke volumes. Just the alpha's name was filled with sorrow.

No one had to state what vibrated in the air. Death was coming.

Amon turned and left. Kyrr gathered Lejla and his father in each arm and herded them out of the room. Aldric could hear him instructing his mate, his words low and urgent, about where to take their children. She began to argue as they moved down the hall.

Rory was very still, staring off into space. "I've killed them," she muttered. "I've killed every man, woman and child here. They orchestrated this, Aldric. This makes it easy for them to kill me and my mother's pack at one time."

"Rory, don't say that." Aldric came to her, holding her face between her hands. "We don't know that that's what happening now. There could only be a few of them coming."

"Do you believe that?" Her eyes searched his.

He stared into the iridescent copper of her gaze, memorizing. "No," he finally said after a long moment.

She shut her eyes, and he pressed his forehead to hers. Fear for the pack was not as strong as his desire to protect Rory.

They both jumped when a thin, feminine scream sounded from outside. Rory's pulse immediately rocketed under his hand on her neck.

She pulled away from him and something in her eyes shut down. "We need to get our weapons in the tent. Then we need to find Amon and stick to his side. He's the strongest fighter here."

"I agree," he said, "but first we need to help Kyrr. He'll be getting Lejla and whatever children he can to safety. The vampires will target them."

"You're right. But we need to go, now."

They passed Kaspar in the hall. He was stumbling out of Seraph's quarters, staring in confusion at the chaos around him. His arm was bound securely to his chest with a contraption made of leather strips.

"What is happening?" he asked Aldric.

Aldric swore. He'd forgotten about Kaspar. "Kyrr believes vampires are about to attack Snowpoint. You can't fight, Kaspar, you have to run. Come with us, we're going to find Lejla and the children. You need to go with them."

To his credit, he didn't try to argue with Aldric or ask any questions. "Fighting is not my strong suit, my speed is. I am not able to shift again, however. In my form as a man, I am limited."

"I understand. Follow us."

The three of them ran down the hall to the cabin, spurred on by the screams and shrieks from beyond.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **Thank you to **shvaeli**, **ice-coldnuka-cola**, **ScaledWolf**, **kyuubis-child**, **Unorthodox119**, guest **Quality Story**, **Starlightkitty12**, **RickBe**, **avasnowbringer**, **jpuga96**, **QTG27**, and **Apocalypse Survivor** for the follows, favorites and reviews! Welcome, new readers.

I may be slowing down a bit with my updates. I've been working hard to upload new chapters almost every day, and I can feel myself starting to burn out. That is the _last_ thing I want to happen...I'm sure everyone reading can identify with the heartbreak frequently experienced upon discovering and really enjoying a story, only to see that the author abandoned the story. I'm using this time, right here, to give my word that I will not let that happen to The Curse's Bounty. I just need a little more time in between updates.

Graphic violence warning in this chapter.

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**Chapter 27**

When they reached the outside, it was difficult for Aldric to fight past his body's natural reaction to the shock he felt. All around them, vampires dressed in black, red and gray armor grappled with male members of the pack. Only a few of them had shifted to their wolves.

Rory spotted Kyrr beyond the boundaries of the camp, to the west. He was huddled near a large boulder with Lejla and several small figures. "There he is!"

Kaspar and Aldric followed her as she sprinted in his direction. No one tried to stop or engage them as they went. Aldric gritted his teeth as a vampire near him drove his sword cleanly through the torso of a pack member midway through his change.

Kyrr's head snapped up at their arrival. "We have not prepared for the event that our territory was invaded. My home has always been our stronghold, and Amon assured me that it could not be breached if sealed. I cannot trap my mate and the children inside, though." His eyes were wild with fear.

Lejla clutched Niko and five other children to her. None of the children cried or screamed, despite the fear plain on their small faces. Luckily, Niko was by far the youngest; the others were old enough to think for themselves if separated. Aldric doubted, however, that the oldest girl had seen her first change yet.

Thinking desperately, he took Kaspar by his uninjured shoulder. "Take them to Fort Fellhammer," he instructed the man.

He hoped to whatever Divines were listening that the fort truly had remained empty during the years that had passed since his slaughter of the Silver Hand. If the fort had been repopulated, he would simply be sending the group to a different death, one possibly more gruesome.

Kaspar remembered his story about clearing the stronghold, and his eyes lit up. "I will take them there and seal us inside."

"You will find weapons and some supplies inside, but no food," Aldric told him. "I will come for you once it's safe."

"Mama," Niko whimpered softly. "Daddy."

"Take good care of your mother and sister, my son. When you grow strong, you must protect them—they are precious, like jewels." Kyrr kissed Niko's mop of auburn curls. He pulled one of the older girls to him. "And Liana, you must listen to your mother always. She is smart and tough. I know you will grow to be a good mother of your own, when your time comes. Always remember that I have loved the three of you fiercely, with all my heart."

The girl shook visibly, but didn't cry. "I love you, father."

Aldric's throat tightened as he watched the family embrace. Niko was likely too young to be able to remember his father's words if he survived, but they were mostly for Lejla and Kyrr himself. They were full of emotion—a parent's last words to his loved ones before he faced his own death.

Kyrr hugged each of the other children in the group before standing and looking seriously into Kaspar's eyes. He spoke simply.

"Protect them."

"I will, my alpha."

Just before the group began to run down the side of the mountain, two more young men ran to them. One of the little girls let out a little shriek and threw herself at one of them. He scooped her up in his arms and turned to Kyrr. "Where are we taking them?"

"You listen to Kaspar now." Kyrr pointed to the scout.

Kaspar's face was grim. "Follow me!"

Rory, Kyrr, and Aldric watched the mismatched group begin to carve a path down the steep mountainside. Aldric's hopes lifted slightly with the arrival of the two boys, but he still felt deep sadness watching them run away.

Something on the edge of Aldric's vision nagged at him, and he turned to see a vampire that stood yards away, watching them. When he noticed that Aldric had seen him, he turned around and began to bolt.

Without saying anything, he sprinted after him. He could hear Rory begin to tell Kyrr that the vampire had likely heard where Lejla, Kaspar, and the others had fled.

The vampire was not interested in offering Aldric a fight. In dismay, Aldric quickly realized that the man was trying to escape with the knowledge of what he'd just seen. He darted through the camp, running down the mountain in the direction of the watchtower.

It distantly occurred to Aldric that the vampire might have been leading him straight into a trap, but he never faltered. The gap between him and his prey began to slowly widen. Aldric pushed on, knowing that if the man made it past the watchtower and to more level ground, he would lose him.

Rapid footfalls sounded behind him. Almost as soon as he became aware of them, Rory passed him. Arms and legs pumping smoothly, she tore through the camp ahead of him, running faster than anyone Aldric had ever seen.

The vampire had barely passed the tower when she suddenly stopped. She flung her arms out in front of her, palms outstretched. Less than ten feet in front of the vampire, two summoning orbs suddenly blossomed. He stopped in his tracks when the purple ribbons of energy cleared—two flame atronachs, creatures of pure fire in the shape of women, stared at him.

Both of the daedra raised their arms in an eerily synchronized motion. The vampire barely had time to turn away before twin balls of fire exploded into him from behind.

Blown off his feet by the impact, he soared forward up the hill. The fire consumed him the way kindling went up, immediately devouring its way across his entire body. He thrashed in the snow, and the atronachs sent two more fireballs to be sure.

When his charred body was still, they danced through the air to Rory, floating above the ground. A stream of fire trailed in their wake. When they reached her, one of them twirled her body up and backwards through the air in a graceful flip. The two conjured creatures were silent, but somehow seemed eager.

"Good girls," Rory said. She turned to face the camp again. "Now let's go."

As they returned to the pack, it became obvious that they weren't going to be able to fight their way, unarmed, to the tent where their weapons were stored. Rory pulled her cuirass over her head, not bothering with the buckles, and began to shed her trousers and boots.

Aldric hesitated. He couldn't use his Thu'um if he was in the form of his beast. Then again, fighting with that alone was an imprecise art. Many of the Shouts he'd learned were powerful, but they were likely to injure others on his side if they were too close to his target.

He kicked off his boots, deciding to change. Rory was already crouched on the ground, the very air seeming to shiver around her. He stopped a moment to watch her shift, something he'd never seen before.

Even with the violence and tension around them, he found the room to be awestruck. Instead of her skin tearing open to reveal the pelt underneath, the black fur seemed to glide over her skin like water, rippling over her body. As the glossy fur covered her, her limbs stretched and grew with liquid grace.

Her change took less than twenty seconds, the fastest Aldric had ever seen. He looked away, about to concentrate, but found that his wolf was alert and ready. His change, too, seemed to be faster, brought on by the adrenaline.

It was the first time he'd ever shifted in response to a fight. He had always preferred to use his weapons if provoked. Even taking Fellhammer and Driftshade as his beast was a conscious, premeditated decision.

He rose to his feet, shaking his head. Rory had waited while he changed, and when she saw that he was done, she took off toward the camp. He followed her, painfully alert for any targets that would try to attack her.

Amon and Ragnar were near the giant cookfire in front of Kyrr's cabin, fighting off a swarm of vampires. Amon held what looked like a borrowed iron shield in his left hand, and a dwarven sword in his right. He proved to be extremely efficient with the block-and-slash technique as enemy after enemy fell before him.

Ragnar was weaponless. Any time a vampire lunged at him, the huge man would grab it by its throat and fling it away from him, bellowing in rage. Some of the others had begun to realize that attacks from a distance were more effective, and Rory drew up short as a spear of ice the length of her forearm was launched past her.

Kyrr and his father were nowhere in sight.

When Ragnar caught sight of Aldric and Rory, he shuddered and allowed himself to begin shifting. One of the vampires, seeing that he was vulnerable, leapt at him, but Rory intercepted the man.

Her right arm was suddenly there, and the vampire crashed into it. She drove him to the ground and swung her left arm around to plunge her claws into his chest, the bones of his ribcage cracking and snapping. With a feral snarl, she ripped his heart out and dropped it in the snow next to him, where it began to steam in the cold air.

Behind her, near Amon, the one remaining flame atronach had found an excellent defensive position in the doorway of the cabin. No vampire could get near it, as it rained fire on any that tried. Finally, an axe was hurled into the center of it, and it went dark and collapsed.

Ragnar righted himself with an immense, fearsome roar that even made Aldric flinch. He launched himself at a group of vampires standing to the side, attempting magical attacks. The way the three of them buckled beneath his weight would have been comical if the circumstances weren't so dire.

With a grunt, Amon lashed out with his blocking arm, maneuvering the shield into a horizontal position, and the edge caught a vampire square on the side of her head as she jumped at him. Her skull crumpled beneath the metal like she was made of soft clay, and she dropped like a stone.

Unfortunately, the force of the blow had snapped the bracers holding the shield to Amon's arm. He shook the broken shield off and crouched, looking for his next opponent.

Aldric found him first. The vampire approached from behind Amon, a dagger clutched in his fist. Putting his shoulder down, Aldric crashed through the long metal spit used for roasting meat and charged directly through the fire.

The vampire's eyes widened as Aldric collided with him, spit and all. The metal device proved to be very useful. The vampire screamed and thrashed as Aldric used his weight and the scorching bars to pin the vampire to the ground. Opening his mouth wide, Aldric ended its suffering by closing his jaws over the man's entire head.

Amon watched him, his bare chest heaving. "Thank you."

Aldric answered him with a rough bark and looked through the flames of the fire to find Rory.

His heart ground to a halt, and then sped up to double its normal speed. Before her, a figure was slowly approaching. It walked heavily, jerkily, like two feet on the ground was not its preferred method of moving.

A vampire transformed into its beast had targeted her. Beyond her on the ground was Ragnar's still form, surrounded by several dead vampires. She was crouched low to the ground, a deep growl rumbling from her chest as she faced the new opponent.

Slowly, Aldric circled it from the side opposite Rory, trying to stay unseen. As he crept closer, it turned its head to him and hissed, displaying his teeth and fangs that were nearly as impressive as his own. Its wings flared out behind it aggressively.

Aldric abandoned the stealth method and ran to Rory's side. Suddenly, it lurched forward, almost stumbling to the ground. Another wolf had pounced on it from behind, its teeth buried deep into the thick shoulder muscle near the vampire's throat.

As if he were ridding himself of a doll on his back, the vampire reached behind him with his opposite arm and seized the werewolf by the thick ruff of hair on the back of his neck. He ripped the wolf away and threw him into the ground at his feet. The wolf landed with a yelp on his back and wriggled to right himself.

"Kyrr!" Amon yelled, rushing forward.

Both Rory and Aldric seized the opportunity and leapt at exactly the same moment. Together, they crashed into the vampire and brought him down. The vampire managed to get his arms up to protect his face and neck, but Aldric locked his jaws around the creature's bicep, shredding the muscle to search for the artery that was hidden there.

Rory was buried snout-deep in the belly of the vampire, growling and snarling viciously. Dark blood sprayed as she reared back, pulling a mouthful of the vampire's intestines with her. They gleamed like blue ropes in the firelight.

The vampire screeched into the air, piercing Aldric's ears. It twitched and jerked, attempting to get away from the two of them. Aldric saw his moment and lunged at the vampire's throat.

He bit down forcefully, tearing through flesh. Hot blood spurted into his mouth, down his throat. He didn't stop until he felt his teeth scrape bone, and then he clamped down and jerked his head. The vampire's neck snapped and his struggles ceased abruptly.

Rory panted softly, her breath misting in the air. Aldric rested on his haunches and looked down at the torn body of the vampire beast. He was clawed and slashed nearly beyond recognition.

A short laugh drew his attention and he looked up. Amon crouched next to the pack leader, who had shifted back to his human form. Holding his side, Kyrr grinned through the pain on his face at him.

"I believe I was right earlier when I said that you are no ordinary wolf," he said. "You, my friend, are extraordinary."


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: **It briefly occurred to me to play an April Fool's prank on you guys, but I'm not that mean. Or creative. Spread mischief for me!

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**Chapter 28**

They counted the bodies of the vampires. Twelve. Only twelve of them had stormed the camp.

Rory wasn't sure what that meant. Did they truly believe a dozen vampires were enough to wipe out the entire pack? Or were these simply meant for her and Aldric?

Truthfully, though, twelve of them would have been enough to wipe out the pack, had she and Aldric not been there. Bringing down the last, most powerful vampire had been a combination of teamwork and luck. Rory wasn't sure that anyone else in the pack could have defeated it.

Four other men and three women were also dead. Many more were hurt. The pack was slowly reforming in the morning—those who had escaped due to injury or inadequate skill in combat were still trickling in.

Kyrr mourned his brother. Amon never left his post beside him as the dawn began to creep through the sky. Ragnar's body lay on the ground before the cabin. The dagger that had been driven through his chest had been pulled out.

Andreas had elected to stay hidden inside the tunnel of Kyrr's home. He couldn't run, and he couldn't fight, so he waited for the outcome inside. Rory couldn't imagine the deep frustration and helplessness he must have felt, hearing the screams and suffering of people he cared about yet being unable to react.

The wounded were coming up the mountain to wait near the fire. Seraph had reappeared, claiming that he'd been searching for Lejla and the children. Rory, emotion still running high from the battle, had scoffed and turned away at his words. She was inclined to believe that he'd simply fled.

Now, after she'd had a little time to settle down, she had changed her mind. Seraph was clearly of a healer's attitude, busying himself with tending to the hurt pack members, and healers didn't fight. His worth was in what he could give alive, not what he could offer with his death.

Amon approached Rory. "Kyrr wants you to go to Fort Fellhammer with Aldric and bring back Lejla, Kaspar, and the others."

"He's not coming?" Aldric asked.

Amon shook his head. "He trusts you, and he cannot leave the pack after what has happened."

Rory's body was wracked with exhaustion; she'd only had an hour of sleep after Aldric left. Her eyes burned. "We'll leave right now."

Aldric followed her to their tent. He couldn't shift again so suddenly, and she wanted the option of her weapons if she needed to fight again.

"I could go. If you need to stay here and rest."

"No. I'll rest when we get back," she answered.

She undid her belt and threaded the loop of a sheath through it, securing it again. The ebony sword slid home snugly. She fitted her bow on her back and watched Aldric pick up his greatsword. Made of the same material as his bow, the blade was handsome to behold.

They elected to travel to the fort at a pace slower than a run, wanting to conserve energy. The sun had fully risen and was beginning to bounce off the snow, blinding her. She squinted as they walked, keeping a hand raised to shield her eyes.

"You fought well," Aldric said suddenly.

"Thank you. You did, too." She hated the way their interactions had suddenly become so stiff and formal. Rory wondered if he was being that way simply because of the declaration he'd made before storming out of the tent. Were men really so sensitive?

Watching Aldric in battle was magnificent. She still felt a tingle of pride when she replayed the scene in her head of him finishing off the vampire beast. So strong, so ferocious. Even her mother would have been pleased.

When the fort came into sight, Rory pulled her bow from her back and strung an arrow. Aldric obligingly kept behind her, trying his best to muffle his footsteps through the snow.

Blood could be scented on the air. As they crept into the courtyard of the stone building, something moved to Rory's left and she drew her arm back, ready to send the arrow into her target.

She loosened the arrow and lowered her bow when she realized the movement was made by one of the older boys that had gone with the group. He was propped up against the perimeter wall, holding the middle of his body.

He breathed shallowly as they approached. "Glad to see you," he grunted. Blood and other fluid leaked through his fingers.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice low. She knelt next to him to look at his wounds.

"No Silver Hand, just some bandits." He jutted his chin to gesture behind her.

Two corpses sprawled on the ground, their throats mangled. The unrecognizable remains of another lay in a torn heap further away. Aldric couldn't keep the surprise from his face as he looked at the third body. It was more meat than man.

The boy noticed and met Rory's eyes before looking away, embarrassed. "It was my first change."

She squeezed his knee sympathetically. Most children of werewolves didn't experience their first shift until they were well into puberty, around fifteen or sixteen years of age. It was not unheard of, however, for an early change to be brought on by extreme duress.

"Lejla, Kaspar, and Mathias took the children into the fort. I stayed behind so they could bar the doors," he told her. "I started to change. It hurt so badly. I didn't think there would be pain like that. After it happened, I can't remember anything. I woke up right here. I think one of them stabbed me."

He moved the hand that clutched at his torso, and watery blood immediately trickled out. The incision was no more than two inches long, but Rory didn't like its location. It was too close to his ribcage; she feared it had punctured a lung.

"We're going to get the fort open and get Lejla and the others out first, and then I'm going to tend to you, understand?" she asked him, ducking to look into his eyes.

He nodded. "I can wait."

Aldric rattled the heavy door. It was solidly barred from within. He kicked at it with his boot. "Kaspar?" he called. "Lejla? Can anyone hear me?"

Something began to move on the other side of the door. It sounded like many heavy things were being dragged away. After a moment or two, the door creaked outward, hinges screaming in protest.

Mathias came out first, sweat beading on his forehead. Behind him, a massive dining table on its side was near the entrance. "Is it safe to come back?"

"Yes," Aldric told him. "Where are the others?"

He looked behind him. "They're deeper within. Kaspar told me to stay here, and if anyone started to break through I was to come find them."

Aldric touched his shoulder. "All right. Stay here with your friend. I'll go get Kaspar and Lejla and the children."

Mathias stopped him with a hand on his elbow. "The others…the pack…"

"Ragnar and several others have died." Aldric's voice was gentle. "Some are hurt, but your pack is mostly whole."

"And the vampires?" The boy's young face was hard with anger.

"We killed them."

Mathias nodded, staring at the ground. Aldric entered the fort, while Mathias came to rest by his friend next to Rory. They waited tensely until Aldric returned. Lejla's face was pinched with stress, she cradled Niko in her arms. Amazingly, the boy had fallen asleep.

Kaspar held a girl's hand, and the rest of the children filed out behind him like ducklings, silent and scared. They took in the injured boy, and her presence next to them. Liana, Kyrr's daughter, was the only one that seemed to recognize her.

"You don't have to worry anymore," she told them, trying to make her voice as kind and gentle as possible. She was about to tell them their parents were safe, but then she realized that might not be true. Some of the little ones might return to find their parents dead.

Turning back to the young man, she pulled her glove off and flexed her hand, trying to remember what her father had taught her about restoration magic. Closing her eyes, she imagined it coming from deep within her, an energy that was warm but not hot. When her fingers began to itch, she opened her eyes to see a faint, golden glow growing from her skin.

She pressed her palm to the boy's wound and pushed more of the energy out of her. He jerked as he felt it begin to work, and his breathing quickened. Rory focused on her goal of healing inside his body before the outer incision closed, and her hand began to shake as it became more difficult. She was beginning to force the magic instead of coaxing it.

The boy's spine arched. Her breath came in quick pants between her clenched teeth, and when the wounded flesh had finally knitted itself together, she sat heavily on the ground.

"That was amazing," the boy gasped. "That felt better than anything I've ever experienced."

"What's your name?" she asked him.

"Klaus." He shut his eyes as his head lolled to the side. "My name is Klaus, and you can do that for me any time you want."

Rory grimaced as she pushed to her knees. Aldric helped her up.

"I didn't know you were skilled with magic," he said.

She slapped snow and dirt from her backside. "That was my father's influence. He tried to teach me all he knew about magic, and my mother tried to teach me all she knew about physical fighting."

"That's impressive."

Rory snorted. "Well, it _would_ have been, if I were born Mer. I don't mean to say Nords cannot be mages—some hold natural talent for the magical arts. I'm not one of them. I took only to the school of conjuration, which disappointed my father, who was very skilled in destruction magic."

"You're also good at healing," he pointed out.

"No," she disagreed. "Klaus is lucky his wound was small. I couldn't have handled anything worse. He still needs to find Seraph when we get back."

Klaus had crawled to his hands and knees, his head hanging heavily toward the ground. "That was almost worth getting hurt for," he muttered, his voice lazy.

Aldric's mouth twitched as he fought back a smile. "What'd you do to him?"

She glared at Klaus on the ground. "Healing magic can feel…good."

"_That_ good?"

"He was hurt, and he'd just shifted for the first time in his life. Every sensation is heightened for him right now. You don't remember your first change?"

Klaus rolled to his back, spreading his arms and legs on the ground. He laughed as he rubbed his head into the dirty snow.

"He's drunk!" Aldric exclaimed, looking positively delighted. "Hey, bring those magic fingers to me, I want to feel."

Face burning, she pinched his forearm. "Stop."

Lejla bent over to help Klaus to his feet. The alpha female looked up and caught Rory's eyes. "He told you he shifted last night?"

She nodded. "Yes. He was very brave."

Lejla petted Klaus's head, smoothing his soiled hair away from his face. "He was. He is the youngest of us to make his first change in several decades."

"How old is he?" Rory frowned.

"Thirteen."

She looked away. Klaus would now be considered a man to the rest of the pack. He was eligible to bond with a mate and try for children. It would be extremely unlikely that any woman would elect to bond with someone so young, but it had happened before.

Pack life meant, for many children, that they grew and matured at a faster rate. Their existence was a hard one—they scraped by, living off the land, what they hunted, and what they could trade with caravans or traveling merchants. Nothing went to waste and everything was valuable.

It was also a very isolated life. Andreas, and what she could tell of Kyrr, hadn't made an effort to demonize anyone who wasn't a werewolf, but she had seen it happen in other packs before. Finding people afraid to talk or even make eye contact with strangers was not uncommon when visiting a pack.

Rory felt sorry for Klaus, who was about to have many responsibilities placed on his young shoulders. He would now be expected to stop living with his family and start participating in hunts to bring back game. Other males could, and would, fight him for dominance and the attention of eligible females. If any threat—like what had happened only hours before—presented itself, he would be expected to fight until he died to protect the pack.

Rory saw Aldric watching Klaus, and the look on his face said he was perhaps feeling the same way she was. She wanted to tell him all the things she'd just been thinking, but she worried he would find it too strange and alien.

"We should return," Lejla said. "Kyrr will need me."

Kaspar drifted closer. "Can you walk, Klaus?"

Klaus pulled away from Lejla and straightened. Aside from stumbling for a moment, he appeared stable. "Yes, I can walk."

With the children, the trip back to the pack was slower than before. Aldric steered them out of the path of a frostbite spider, foraging the landscape for any small animal unlucky enough to be its breakfast. Niko, having woken, peered over his mother's shoulder and stuck his small, pink tongue out at the giant insect as they passed.

Relief was palpable when they returned to the camp. Upon seeing Lejla and the children, some even wept and cried out. The children immediately scattered to their mothers and fathers; by some incredible stroke of luck, none of them had lost a parent in the night.

Lejla went straight to Kyrr. His ribcage had been tightly bandaged, but he rose to his feet to embrace his mate and their children. Liana cried openly, but Niko simply stared down at the body of his uncle, his face confused.

Rory had run out of steam. Her brain was beginning to experience little shocks of fatigue, like she was missing a split second of time here and there. She made for the tent they occupied and went straight for the bed. Everyone was safe for the moment—now it was time for sleep.

Her weapons went in a heap on the ground. She couldn't even make herself store them properly on the rack. She managed to kick her boots off before collapsing on the bed, fully dressed.

Rory didn't need to open her eyes to know that the person following her and cleaning up her trail was Aldric. The creak of his leather armor and the pattern of his walking was as familiar as his scent.

He stood over her, and she could feel him looking down at her. "Don't you dare try to start a conversation with me right now," she warned, speaking into her pillow.

"I'm not," he assured her. "But I am going to want to talk some more when you feel able to. Andreas spoke of things that I think I have a right to know about."

She knew he was talking about the old man's mention of Maksim, and a tiny spark of anger flared. "No, you don't have a right to know about what he said. You're not my husband, and you're not my mate, and you are not in love with me, and I am _certainly_ not in love with you."

Rory could feel the build of an unidentifiable emotion in the air. He was silent for such a long time that she began to think he was growing angry and trying to think of a retort.

She rolled to her side to glare up at him, and the look on his face made her heart skip a beat. He was looking not at her, but into the middle distance. She had never seen his face look that shut down, even when he was recounting painful memories of his past. It was more powerful to behold even than sadness or hurt.

Immediately, she sat up, all her exhaustion forgotten. Before she could get to her feet, he turned and walked away from her for the second time. It had an air of finality to it that shook her.

She didn't know what had come over her. Bile rose in her throat when she thought of what she might have done. She needed Aldric. She couldn't finish what she'd set out to do without his skills, and that side of her that she'd been harshly ignoring and pushing into the back of her mind needed _him_.

Rory was too dazed to go looking for him. Something told her that if she tried to follow him now, it would be bad. So she did something she had not allowed herself to do for a very long time.

She lay down, and curled up beneath the furs, and she cried. She cried until her throat ached and her head pounded. She cried for her mother, and her father, and for Lilly, and she cried for Maksim, and she cried for everyone that had died in the past six hours because of her.

And when it wasn't enough, she screamed into her pillow until her voice left her.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: **Thank you to all new followers and users who have favorited and reviewed! If I could give you all a slice of the chocolate French silk pies I've been making lately, I would.

To the guest **Quality Story**: I can't respond directly to you, and you've raised questions or issues others might share, so I'll be posting a response in the reviews. If any of the rest of you have questions you want answered, or if you're confused about anything I've built so far in the story, feel free to review or PM me. I will always be available to answer.

* * *

**Chapter 29**

It was dark. So very dark. Her eyes opened wide, as wide as they could, as they searched for any bit of available light. As she stumbled along the hall, arms outstretched to feel for the walls, the fingers of her left hand trailed along cold, rough stone.

The wall beneath her left hand abruptly ended. A corner. She halted, feeling cool air drift past just ahead of her face. Strands of her hair stirred with it. She could smell death on the breeze.

Past the corner, an orange glow flickered. It was at the very end of another long hallway. She squinted, making out the faint shape of a torch set into the wall. She itched to be near it, close enough to feel the heat of the flame—the light would mean she could see. Seeing would mean she was safe.

Suddenly, she was barefoot. The stone floor beneath her feet did not startle her; rather, she welcomed the change in texture. Her toes flexed against it as she walked toward the light. This would be good if she had to run or push off from her feet. The stone would help her.

It took a long time to reach the light. When she was close enough to see the hallway around her clearly, she noticed a figure on the floor, just far enough from the pool of light to be too shadowed to make out.

Fourteen, fifteen steps closer, and she stopped. The person lay still. Long, black hair spilled over the figure's shoulders, snaking through the blood on the ground.

Blood. Almost as soon as she noticed it, she could feel the sticky liquid between her bare toes. It was still spreading from the injured person. She reached out, her breath frosting in the air.

* * *

Rory's eyes opened. This nightmare was worse than the one she'd had in Riften. Her body felt paralyzed, unable to move. Both of her legs and her right arm, trapped beneath her, were stiff and cramped from tension.

Still breathing unevenly, she rolled to her side and groaned when she stretched her limbs. Her throat felt like she'd swallowed a mouthful of sand, and her eyes felt swollen.

Pushing to her feet, she hobbled to the washbasin. The water inside was clean, but cold. She splashed it on her face anyway, and cupped some in her palm to bring to her mouth.

The interior of the tent was warm enough with the brazier, and the fur she'd slept under was thick, but she felt like she'd been sleeping in an ice cave for all the warmth they brought her. She knew what the problem was—the rather large heat source she slept curled around was missing.

Rory dressed slowly, her right shoulder still aching. When she pushed aside the hide covering, she judged the time to be mid-afternoon. She felt like she'd slept for a week.

Along the trip to Kyrr's cabin, she ignored the stares of the pack. Some had seen her fight, and gave her respectful nods, and some were glaring at her. She, an outsider, had lived while their family had died. Rory knew that even if Kyrr hadn't shared with his pack the reason she was here, it would not be hard to figure out the attack was connected with her arrival. There were no coincidences that large.

Ragnar was still outside near the fire. The wound that had taken his life had been cleaned and neatly sewed up. Both of his arms were folded, his hands clasped over his abdomen.

Small trinkets and objects were scattered around his body. A few septims, a necklace, the lower jaw of an animal; a thin wreath woven from branches taken from a snowberry bush rested near his head, the berries like droplets of blood against the snow.

Seraph came outside while she was looking down at Kyrr's brother. "Ragnar will remain here until the next morning's light. Then we will find a place to bury him. He will continue the cycle of life even in his death as his body nourishes the soil."

Rory wanted to say that she knew all of that already, but Seraph hadn't been present for Andreas's revelation, and she wasn't about to share it with him now.

She knew that tomorrow, Kyrr, Seraph, Ragnar's mate, and any friends he had in the pack would carry his body to softer ground. They would all dig the grave together, and help each other lower him into it.

Then they would push the earth back into the hole with their hands. The process would take a long time. Some would talk about him, some wouldn't. Then the alpha would approach Ragnar's mate and embrace her; for a month after the death, he would bring her game from his hunts.

She looked up at Seraph. "I need to speak with Kyrr."

"He is within. He is in mourning, but he instructed us to let you in when you rose." His calm eyes unnerved her. She felt like he could see straight into her mind and her thoughts.

Rory followed Seraph down the hall. When they passed Ragnar's quarters, she could hear soft, ragged weeping from inside. She clenched her hand into a fist; the feeling of her nails cutting into her palm steadied her.

The seer left her at the door of his quarters. Kyrr sat on the floor of the meeting room attached to his bedroom. His head, bowed when she entered, rose at her presence. The alpha's eyes were sad, but steady.

"I wondered when you would come to me," he said.

"He left."

"I know." Kyrr pushed himself to his feet. "Only a few hours ago."

"He might not come back," she admitted. "He took his weapons and his belongings."

The pack leader studied her face. She looked away uncomfortably. "You have quarreled with him?"

"I said things that may have hurt him badly." Rory looked at her feet, feeling like a small child.

"He held much pain in his eyes," Kyrr agreed.

"Did he see you before he left?" she asked.

"He did. He told me that he would return when he could, but that he had business to attend to."

Rory wasn't sure what that meant. "Did he tell you where he was going?"

Kyrr hesitated for a long moment. "Yes."

"Tell me, please, Kyrr."

"You are intending to follow him?" he questioned.

"I need to make things right." She ran a hand through her hair.

"And you will bring him back?" Kyrr pressed.

Rory nodded. "If I can, yes."

"And if you can't?"

"Then…I'll come back, to Snowpoint." It wasn't like she had anywhere else to go.

"I will travel with her," Amon said behind her. She jumped at the sound of his voice. She hadn't heard him enter the room.

Kyrr frowned over her shoulder at him. "The thought of both Aldric and Rory gone at once unnerves me. I cannot afford to spare you as well, Amon. I fear there may be another attack."

"Not so soon," Amon disagreed, walking into Rory's view.

"I'm capable of traveling alone, Amon," Rory snapped. "I don't need an escort."

"Has it occurred to you that they may be watching the roads and the areas around the pack?" he asked her. "There may have been scouts monitoring Snowpoint, waiting for your arrival."

"Then those same scouts surely traveled back to their home to tell their master we repelled the attack," Kyrr pointed out heatedly.

"Not necessarily." Amon spoke to the pack leader but his eyes were on Rory. "I would place gold on the bet that they watch her, and only her. Something has changed between you and her, Kyrr. Something is different. What has she told you?"

Seraph drifted into the room behind his brother like he had sensed the change in conversation.

Nervously, Rory looked to Kyrr. He met her eyes and considered her briefly.

"That is none of your concern now, Amon."

"Does it have to do with what happened last night?" he challenged.

"Enough." Kyrr's voice sharpened. "You will be informed when I decide you are to be informed. Travel with Rory to where Aldric has gone, and then immediately return to us."

"Where has he gone?" Rory asked the alpha.

The sandy-haired man turned to her, the liquid silver of his eyes burning into hers. "Folgunthur. It is an ancient tomb to the west of here, near Morthal and Solitude."

"Thank you, Kyrr," she said, preparing to leave.

"I must tell you, Rory, the marshland of Hjaalmarch is an evil place. The dead have been known to escape the tombs located there. Aldric goes to face many dark things in Folgunthur. You are ready for that?" He began to reach out to her, but thought better of it and pulled his hand back.

"I have been to Hjaalmarch before. I'm not fond of spiders or the chaurus," she replied, "but I can handle it. Aldric has fought draugr before. Thank you for the warning." She turned to look at Amon. "I'm leaving when the sun rises, with or without you."

He smirked. "I will be ready."

* * *

When she returned to her tent, she had a surprise waiting for her. Liana, Kyrr's daughter, stood inside. The young girl did not favor her mother the way Niko did; her long, wavy hair was the same golden brown hue of her father's, and she had the shape of his eyes.

Rory stopped when she saw her. "Is something wrong?"

"No." The girl shook her head, her eyes slightly wide.

"Did you want to talk to me about something, Liana?" she asked, sensing something.

Liana nodded, and licked her lips. "I heard my father talking about the way you and Aldric killed one of the vampires. He said that they can change into another form the way we do."

"Only some of them," she reassured the girl. "They're rare."

"My father said you are very powerful. That you could be valuable to the pack, if you stayed," Liana pressed.

Somehow, Rory didn't think Kyrr said these things in front of his daughter. "Liana, did you spy on your father?"

Her cheeks went pink and she looked down. "He didn't know I was in his bedroom with Niko. He was talking to my mother and my grandfather."

Rory softened. "I'm going to be here for a while, but soon I'll have to leave."

"Will you come back? Will you stay with us and join our pack?" The look on her face was so innocent in its hopefulness.

"I can't say, Liana. I have my own life. I have people that are counting on me to come back to them." Kyrr's daughter reminded her, in some ways, of Lilly.

"I want you to teach me," Liana said suddenly, the words coming out of her in a rush.

Rory's brow went up. "Teach you what?"

"When I can shift," Liana clarified, seeming to steel herself, "I want you to teach me how to fight. My father said he'd never seen any female as fierce as you. Mathias said women in the pack are supposed to be mothers and support their mates, that we don't fight. He said we're not as strong as the males."

Rory smiled. She sat down on the bed and patted the space next to her. Liana took her offer and settled next to her, pulling her legs up to her chest. "I'm going to tell you something that my mother told me. Sometimes we are smaller, but we are every bit as strong as the men. The reason many women don't choose to fight is because they're raised that way. It's easier for some to have babies, and cook food, and make sure their mates are taken care of because that's the way things have been done for many years. But you don't have to live that way if you don't want to. You always have a choice."

"Like _you_," Liana suggested. "You don't live that way. You're strong and you can fight. You beat my uncle, and he was one of the strongest men in the pack."

"My mother raised me that way. When I was younger than you, she started to teach me about what it means to find my own strength. I learned many things from her. She wanted me to be able to take care of myself, instead of having to find a mate to do it for me," Rory told her. "But if you want to do that, if you want to find a strong mate to protect you, there's nothing wrong with that, either. The important thing is that you can choose your path."

"But none of the women in the pack have chosen that path," she pointed out.

Rory thought of the women who had died fighting the vampires, but said nothing.

Liana rested her chin on her knees, thinking. "Will you be here when I change for the first time?"

Rory had no idea how to let her down easy. "How old are you, Liana?"

The look in Liana's eyes hinted she was toying with the idea of lying, but she blew out a small sigh and answered with, "I'll be eleven in the summer."

"Your first change is a long time from now," Rory said. "You should talk to your mother about this. She's strong too, you know. She wouldn't be mated to your father if she wasn't."

Liana twisted her mouth. "Mama never wants to talk about things like this. She only wants me to go and play with the other children."

"She has a point. When you change, you'll be a grown woman. Many things will be different for you."

"Like Klaus?"

Rory was impressed. Liana didn't miss a thing. "Yes, like Klaus. Life has changed for him now."

"I wish I could have changed with him," the girl grumbled. "I wanted to protect everyone too. I don't even want to take a mate and have babies. Boys are mean and they're always dirty, and babies only cry all the time."

Rory chuckled. "You might change your mind about that some day."

"That's what mama says."

"Your mama has been through many things before you came along." She allowed herself to pat Liana's head, feeling the softness of her hair. "You should trust her. She wants nothing but for you and Niko to be happy."

Liana looked up at her, and the storm in her eyes had receded a bit. "Thank you. You talk to me like I'm one of the pack members."

"You _are_ one of the pack members," Rory reminded her. "You're just small."

The girl grinned and stood up. "I'll remember what you told me, you know. When I grow up and change. I'm going to protect my pack just like you."

Before Rory could think of anything to say, Liana smiled shyly at her and darted out of the tent.

* * *

When the camp settled down for the night, Rory slung her pack over her shoulders and tightened the straps. She carried her bow in her hands. She'd heeded Amon's words about scouts watching the area, and she was going to be ready at any second.

The hour was close to midnight, and Masser and Secunda shone brightly in the night sky, illuminating her surroundings. She swiftly left the camp before anyone could spot her, sticking to the shadows.

She had just passed the watchtower, finding the steep path down the mountain, when a voice called out.

"Are you so predictable, or do I simply know you better than you realized?"

Rory let Amon watch her fail to lower her bow once she registered it was him. Her arrow was aimed directly at the center of his left eye. A tense moment passed, and when his self-satisfied smile began to falter, she finally relaxed her arms.

"You don't know anything about me," she said, staring into his eyes.

"Don't be so certain of that. I've caught you, haven't I?" He spread his arms, gesturing at his hiding spot.

"Congratulations. I'll be taking my leave now." She sheathed the arrow in the quiver with its brethren.

"The schedule has changed, but the plan has not," he contradicted. "I am still to go with you."

"You can't keep up with me," she told him brusquely. "I could not care less if you come with me, Amon—I leave now because I will need to run to catch up with Aldric. You cannot run as far or as fast as I can."

He smirked. "Don't be so confident."

She nodded at the heavy dwarven shield of his, propped up against a boulder. "That will slow you down. You're taller and heavier than I am, and that will slow you down as well. You can try, but you'll end up alone halfway to Morthal. Stay here. Kyrr needs you."

In response to that, Amon picked up his shield and fitted it over his arm. He walked back to where she stood, his proud eyes challenging hers. "Let's see what you've got."

Two hours later, they were making good time. Rory did not push herself to her limits, though she was certain she could have easily lost Amon only moments after they set out. She ran at a fast, but steady pace. She wanted to be able to spot threats before they spotted her.

Amon was not as much of a hindrance as she'd suspected he would be. He followed at her pace, and though he made more noise than she did, the difference was negligible.

They headed east, toward Morthal. From there, she would cut her path through the marshland to reach Folgunthur. She had tracked the location on her map, and was glad that the terrain was mostly downhill. Traveling upward into mountains or hills would slow her down and tax her muscles.

Rory pushed aside doubt of how quickly she'd be able to catch up with Aldric. He had a good ten hours on her, but she was fairly sure he had set out walking. Like Amon, he would be slowed by the heavy gear he carried and his own tall, muscular frame.

Aldric was also prone to finding places to camp along the way. He took very seriously the values of resting and keeping himself well fed and watered if he was undertaking a mission. While she had often wanted to keep going on their travels from Falkreath, his smooth regularity of bedding down at the same time each night had annoyed her.

While she ran, she kept only half of her mind on the lookout for danger. The other half was occupied with trying to think of what she'd say when she found him. She was both sorry for what she'd said and the hurt she'd caused him, but she also did not feel entirely remorseful. The topic was a painful one.

Aldric pushed at her constantly. He pushed for stories of her past, he pushed for her cooperation, and now he pushed for her love. Rory had been absolutely sure at the time that she'd been truthful in telling him she didn't love him, but now her resolve was cracking. It didn't taste like a lie, but it didn't taste completely honest, either.

Amon hissed at her suddenly. She looked over her shoulder to see him crouched low to the ground, and she doubled back to his side.

"What?" she asked him, none too gently.

He pointed behind her. "Bear."

She squinted. The bear was curled in a large, furry heap on the snow, peacefully minding its own business. "Fine. We'll go around it."

He stopped her with a shake of his head. "I need water." His long hair was damp at the temples, and sweat glistened on the muscles of his arms in the moonlight. His chest was reddened with exertion. The dwarven shield he carried fell to the ground next to him.

She rolled her eyes. "So it begins." But she waited for him to uncork his water skin and drain it.

Still panting, he watched her. "You're not tired at all, are you?"

"No. I'm not. And you look like you're ready to find a warm spot and fall asleep."

Amon shrugged. "Wouldn't mind falling asleep next to you." His eyes swept over her. "You look like you're warm."

She clenched her jaw and looked away. At her response, he laughed quietly. "You're blushing!"

"Stop teasing me."

"Fine," he said, his voice serious. "What does Aldric have that I don't? He's a good fighter, and so am I. We're both handsome men."

"Did I overestimate you?" she snapped. "I was willing to believe you'd be able to spend a few hours alone with me without broaching this topic."

He shrugged. "Why not? I haven't found a woman so far that I liked enough to consider making my mate."

"Keep looking."

"I don't want to."

Rory let her voice get low and dangerous. "Drop it. Now."

"Gods, look at you." Amon sat back on his heels. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you? The fire in your eyes. You're too dominant for him, Rory. He can't fit with you the way I would."

She growled.

It seemed only to encourage him. "_That_ is exactly what I mean. I can just sense something about you. It would be amazing between us, and you know it." He shifted to kneel on the ground in front of her. "Test me out. See how good I would feel inside of you."

Rory slapped him.

He took the blow and turned back to her, his eyes lit with some kind of dark enjoyment. "Is that how you like it? I'm strong enough to dominate you. I'm strong enough to pin you down and give it to you just the way you want it, hard and fast and rough—"

Her hand lashed out faster than he could avoid it. The heel of her palm smashed upward into his nose. His head snapped back and he immediately fell to his backside on the snow.

Amon's eyes rolled up to look at her, and she was infuriated to see that they hadn't lost their amusement. He spat blood onto the ground as he probed his nose with his fingers. "I told you. Feisty."

"You don't take me seriously," she snarled at him. "You see how angry I am at you and you dismiss it. It amuses you. _That_ is one reason why I will never consider you."

He grinned. "I don't take anyone seriously."

"That seems to be bad for your health." She looked down at him coldly. "You and I both know that this ends here. You're going to turn around and go back to Snowpoint, and I'm going to continue on to Folgunthur."

He nodded. "That's what I will do. But you won't be able to stop thinking of what I said, Rory. I told you, I can sense it in you. You have that streak just like I do."

She didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. Leaving him sitting in the snow with his broken nose, she turned around and left.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** I won't include many more chapters like this one. I don't like to regurgitate the quests we've all been through, but once in a while there's nothing wrong with a bit of fun. And yes, I am aware that this isn't strictly canon. I'm not one to play fast and loose with the universe (werewolf culture aside), but I felt it fit Aldric's personality to have it turn out the way it did.

* * *

**Chapter 30**

Aldric stopped in his tracks. He sensed he was getting closer to the end of the tomb, and he was fairly sure he'd slain all the spiders and the draugr behind him, but it wasn't uncommon for him to miss one or two. Sometimes they didn't rouse from their slumber if he crept past them stealthily enough.

He cocked his head, listening. After a moment of hearing nothing, he moved forward again. Rounding the corner, he found himself confronted with a long, dimly lit room. A massive black puzzle door waited for him at the end. Something about the way the room looked gave him pause.

Adrenaline spiked through him again as he heard something from behind him. _Definitely a sound._ He drew his greatsword and faced the hallway, waiting for the draugr to stumble into him.

His jaw dropped when Rory popped in front of him, her ebony bow gripped tightly in her hand. She gasped when she saw how close he was to her with his sword raised.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, lowering his blade.

She frowned at him. "What do you think I'm doing here? I'm looking for you."

"Son of a _bitch_," he swore, turning around. "I specifically told Kyrr that he wasn't to tell you where I went."

"Neither of us knew if you were going to come back," she replied defensively.

"Why wouldn't I come back?" he asked, puzzled.

Rory looked him up and down. "Because of what I said to you."

Aldric sighed and rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. "Rory, it takes a hell of a lot more than that to run me off."

"You weren't angry?"

"Of course I was angry. Hacking my way through a dozen draugr helped me get over that, though." He gestured to the structure they were in.

"Why did you choose this place?"

"I met someone who said this tomb held something mysterious and important. It wasn't far from Snowpoint and I'd been curious about it. I needed some time away. I think we've been spending too much time together. We haven't been apart since Falkreath," he pointed out.

"Oh." She looked thoroughly taken aback.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I just…thought you were going to tell me you wanted nothing to do with me anymore."

He softened a bit. "We still need to talk, but I need to finish here. I suppose you aren't going to go back and wait outside for me."

Rory gave him an eloquent look.

He smiled ruefully. "Fine. I have the key to the door. Let's put it in and see what happens." He held up the key, solid ivory carved in the shape of some kind of beast's clawed hand.

"Very well," she said, following him into the room. "Wait, why are we whispering?"

The candles near the puzzle door suddenly went out like they'd been doused at exactly the same time. Behind them, several loud cracks ripped through the air as the covers of the stone sarcophagi broke open.

By the time he turned around, one of them had already fallen backward into his coffin, an ebony arrow budding from his torso. He hadn't even made it to his feet. Rory quickly took aim and shot another one; he staggered but didn't go down. Brandishing a timeworn axe in one hand, he began to rush her.

Another near Aldric came at him. One sweep of his sword, and the creature went down. He turned to see how Rory was faring with her target.

Before he could get too close, she struck out with a kick, and her boot took him squarely in the chest.

"_Unslaad krosis!_" he snarled at her.

She drew the ebony sword on her left hip and, in the same movement, brought it swiftly up to meet the draugr. It sliced through his head diagonally, and the otherworldly blue light in his eyes flickered before dimming permanently. He dropped, and the top portion of his skull that Rory had cut through slid to the ground. His brains, dry and browned with age, crumbled and fell to the floor.

Rory spared a second to stare at the draugr before turning her horrified look to Aldric. "That is _disgusting!_"

He grinned. More coffins were still bursting open behind her. None of the draugr were particularly powerful and together they cleared the room in less than a minute.

Rory put her bow up on her back, struggling a bit with her pack in the way. "So this is what you did all the time before you met me."

He tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement. "Not a boring way to spend a few days."

"I saw all the dead adventurers in the halls before I got to you. The Dunmer mage as well. What is this place?"

"As far as I can tell, it's where one of the sons of a powerful mage was interred," he answered. "His father was the Archmage of the College of Winterhold, I think. His sons murdered him and took apart an amulet he owned. I think that's what I'm supposed to find here." He handed her the tattered journal he'd found on Daynas Valen's body, the Dunmer she'd come across.

She flicked through the pages, skimming the contents. "The Gauldur legend. I've heard of that. My father told me that family was stricken from all tomes and accounts, trying to wipe them from history. You think the elf was right?"

"We're about to find out." He hefted the claw in his hand. "This opens the door."

She crossed the floor to the door. "It's a puzzle," she murmured. "A simple one. What happens if you get the combination wrong?" Then she noticed the metal openings set in the walls and ceiling above that were situated to point at where she stood in front of the door. "Oh. Something nasty comes from there, I suppose."

"Luckily, the combination is on the key," he told her, handing it to her.

Rory traced the carvings with her finger. "Two birds and a dragon."

Aldric reached up and delicately inserted his fingers into the space around the first, outer ring of the puzzle. He pressed inward, feeling the ancient stone ring give under his hands, and slowly turned it to the right until the silver inlaid emblem of a hawk rested at the top. He repeated the process for the other two, smaller rings until the combination matched.

Rory approached with the key. "Can I?" she asked, looking at him.

"Of course."

The solid silver keyhole in the center of the door held small, circular spaces where the claw would fit. Rory fit the tips of the claws into the holes and pressed the key and the connected lock into the door, rotating it until a click sounded from inside.

All three of the rings spun, and the door began to lower into the ground, groaning and shrieking with disuse. Puffs of dust clouded the air as the thick slab of stone sank out of view, only the very top showing.

Rory darted past him and bounded through the doorway, her foot pushing the door all the way into the slot in the ground. She turned to look at him, mischief lighting her eyes. It was plain what she was about to do; the words _CHASE ME_ might as well have been painted on her forehead.

"Stop, stop, stop!" he cautioned, rushing forward. He caught her just before she ran out of range, wrapping his hands around both of her arms from behind.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You don't always know what's behind these things," he told her. "Sometimes there's…uh…" he trailed off, distracted. She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes searching his.

He'd been away from her for less than a day, but it suddenly seemed much longer than that. This close, her eyes seemed to drag him in until he completely lost his train of thought.

A sly smile curved her lips as she realized what had sidetracked him. She leaned back and planted a tiny kiss on his jaw, her soft mouth scraping against his stubble before pulling away.

Aldric cleared his throat and frowned. "Right. Ah…this door should lead to the crypt."

Before them was a plain wooden door. "And Gauldur's son will be inside?"

"Supposedly, yes."

Rory shrugged. "Shouldn't be much of a challenge with both of us here."

He shook his head, chuckling. "It's _never_ that simple."

They opened the doors to the crypt and were faced with quite a sight. The room was cavernous, stretching far over their heads. The ceiling, high above, stretched in a gentle arc over them, thick columns of stonework recalling the same traditional design of the outside of the tomb.

Shallow steps led down from their perch at the door into the crypt. Set into the walls were nooks where dozens of candles and a few tombs rested. Aldric set into the room at an agonizingly slow pace, ducking to muffle his steps. Rory followed him and pointed ahead.

"I think that's him," she murmured. A beam of strong moonlight had pierced the stone roof and shone on an open sarcophagus at the opposite end of the room.

"I think you're right." Aldric didn't like the feeling in the air. He'd been in his fair share of tombs like this one, and the final battle never failed to bring nasty surprises. It was simply too quiet.

They were thirty paces from the coffin when they triggered some invisible boundary, and the ground suddenly shook beneath their feet. Aldric stumbled, and the telltale sound of coffins popping open echoed throughout the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Aldric could see lesser draugr stepping from their tombs and beginning to unsheathe weapons.

A low growl sounded from inside the coffin resting under the moonlight. The Archmage's son had passed from his life as a man into a deathlord—more powerful than every other kind of draugr, he was distinguished by the ornate, black helmet perched on his head. Twin horns, two hands in length and gently curving inward, rose sharply from the top of the helmet.

Rory drew her sword. "That looks like the same statue you had in your trophy room."

"Good eye," he said, never taking his gaze from the deathlord, who had slowly started to climb out of his sarcophagus. "Be careful. They're powerful."

The deathlord had finally righted himself and began walking toward them, an unusual sword clutched in his right hand. Aldric took the offensive at once and brought his greatsword over his head, aiming to cleave the creature's arm from his shoulder.

The dragonbone blade caught in the heavily armored pauldron of the draugr's armor, and he jerked away from Aldric. His jaw opened and a raspy croak of a laugh came from his mouth. Far more quickly than most draugr, he brought his blade up and caught Aldric across the ribs.

He hissed and jumped back from the deathlord. The thick leather of his armor had taken most of the blow, but the blade's edge had managed to cut through. Aldric could feel a gash opening on his side.

"The sword's enchanted!" Rory grunted as she parried a lunge from the draugr, who had turned his attention to her.

Ribbons of red energy were emanating from her as the Archmage's son landed a glancing blow on her forearm. The energy swirled back into the weapon and down the deathlord's sword arm.

Aldric had been around enough enchanted weaponry to recognize that the charm on the sword was breaking through Rory's natural defenses and siphoning her life energy. The draugr would never have to strike a mortal blow on her; enough small hits, and she would wither and die.

Rory broke away from the deathlord and spun as one of the other draugr approached her. She dodged his sword and sank hers into his stomach. It caught on the ancient leather of his armor and she kicked him free of her blade.

Two more fell before her as Aldric circled the deathlord. He was relentless, coming at Aldric again and again with barely any time for a breath. His strength was unnatural; with each blow that Aldric blocked with his greatsword, his arms buckled under the force behind it.

Rory had dispatched all the other draugr, and still more tombs began to crack open around the room. She whirled to face them. "He's controlling them!"

A bowstring twanged, and Rory grunted as he heard the arrow hit home. He turned to see a pale green arrow buried in her lower abdomen.

The deathlord took his distraction as an opportunity to come at him again. He raised his arm high over his head and started to bring it down, putting his shoulder into the blow. Aldric reacted without thinking.

His Thu'um tore out of him, and the air itself rippled as a visible shockwave slammed into the deathlord. The creature was blown off his feet as the force caught him squarely in its path, and he sailed through the air like a leaf caught in the wind. He bounced off the stone wall on the other side of the room and lay on the floor, stunned.

Rory goggled at him. "Why haven't you done that before?" she demanded. "That's incredible!"

"It is, but it's destructive." Everything around the draugr had been scattered all over the cavernous room. "It's easy to catch innocents in the crossfire."

The deathlord was still scrambling to stand up. Aldric crossed the tomb and drove his greatsword cleanly through his back, severing his spine. Immediately upon his second, and hopefully final, death, the other coffins in the room cracked open to spill lifeless draugr onto the ground.

He turned to Rory, who had snapped the arrow in her stomach. She pulled the leather of her cuirass over the remaining shaft. She made a small noise of pain when her fingers plucked at it. The wound looked odd.

"Did that…?" he started.

She glanced at him. "I healed around the arrow, yes."

"Shor's bones. Here, let me—" Aldric reached out to her.

Before he could do anything, she seized the small piece of wood and yanked. It ripped out of her, and blood trickled down her skin. The arrowhead clattered to the stone as she dropped it.

"Why would you do that?" he snapped, pressing his hand onto her abdomen.

She smiled at him, though it was edged with pain. "Look at it."

He pulled his hand back. Both his palm and her skin were smeared with blood, but she was whole. "I've seen the evidence of your healing before, but not like this."

"It's more impressive because the wound is small." Rory tugged her cuirass back into place.

"You told Kyrr that his father helped you heal your leg before you lost it," he remembered. "That's impressive."

"I wouldn't have been able to do that purely on my own. Shifting helped tremendously."

"How does that work?" he asked, curious.

"You've noticed how your skin tears and your bones break when you shift," she said. "And yet, when you complete the change, you're unhurt. That's because the magic that allows us to shift is an ancient and more primal form of the same restoration magic that healers use."

Dumbfounded, Aldric stared at her. "How did you figure that out?"

"It was something my father had wondered about often. Andreas had had knowledge passed down to him through his family—he comes from a long line of alphas. It's rare, but some werewolves are born with the ability to shift more than once in a day, the way I can. What he helped me do would not work for a wolf like Kaspar, because once he changed back to his form as a man, he would not be able to shift again."

"How did Andreas help you?"

Rory hesitated, looking down. "Are you hurt?"

"What? Oh." His fingers brushed the thin slit in his own cuirass. He pulled the leather up to see a slice in the skin near his ribs. "It's not bad."

"I can heal it."

"No, don't bother."

"Suit yourself," she said. She looked down at the draugr. "What are we going to do about this?"

Aldric used his foot to flip the deathlord onto his back and nudged the enchanted sword from his hand. A piece of paper, neatly folded and stuck to the front of the draugr, caught his attention.

He unfolded it and read aloud. "'Be bound here, Mikrul, Murderer, Betrayer. Condemned for your crimes against the realm and the lord. May your name and your deeds be forgotten forever. And the charm which you bear, be sealed by our ward.'"

Rory knelt and carefully pulled a piece of jewelry from the deathlord. "That was a writ of sealing, what you just read. Someone placed powerful magic on him to keep him here."

Aldric nodded at the amulet. "That must be part of Archmage Gauldur's amulet, that his sons broke into three."

"I can feel the energy in this. This is potent." Rory stared down at the ancient necklace, holding the jagged charms at the bottom in her palm. "The Dunmer's notes held the locations of the other two sons."

"Yes, and presumably both of Gauldur's sons have their pieces of the amulet," Aldric said.

"And someone could repair the necklace and have it made whole again. The same necklace that the country was almost torn apart for." Rory looked up at him, her copper eyes steady.

He held his hand out for the fragment. She gave it to him, and he unclasped the metal catches. For a second, he stared at the amulet, and then he placed it around the neck of Mikrul Gauldurson.

Rory took his feet, and Aldric heaved the draugr up by his shoulders. They deposited his body back into his resting place. Aldric glanced down at the lid to the coffin and doubted they would be able to haul it back into place, until Rory crouched and picked up one end of it without a hint of strain. He almost popped a vein in his forehead helping her, but they heaved it back onto the sarcophagus together.

Rory followed him to the end of the crypt, where he used the key to lower the bars blocking their exit into the ground. A massive, curved stone wall was in the chamber beyond, and as soon as Aldric entered, part of the carving in the stone lit up eagerly, calling him to it.

He stepped closer, and his vision blurred as the Wall gave him its knowledge. He had absorbed enough souls to know what it meant. _Diin_. Freeze.

"So _that's_ what a Word Wall does," Rory observed, coming up next to him. She caught the look on his face. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, and then leaned against the Wall. "I'll be fine. It's disorienting, like being under deep water for too long."

"Sit down," she commanded, pushing him to the floor. "What did it tell you?"

"Combined with other words, it creates a new Thu'um. One that expels powerful frost magic." He took a deep breath. It amused him that she was so concerned about him, but he also didn't need the babying. "Check that chest behind you."

She looked over her shoulder at the heavy chest. "I'm not interested in that."

"Might be something good in there," he teased.

Rory watched him for a moment, and then kissed him. Her lips were warm and soft on his, and before he could reach up with his hand to cup the side of her face, she pulled back.

She looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

Aldric's mouth still tingled. "If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's to never apologize for a kiss."

Rory smiled and looked away. "I'm not sorry for that. I'm sorry for what I said to you yesterday."

"Thank you for that, but I understand. We had gone through a lot in the hours leading up to that."

"That doesn't excuse acting the way I did," she argued. "You have to admit, Aldric, for someone older than a century, I can be remarkably childish sometimes."

Aldric took a breath to disagree with her, but he started to laugh. Once he started, he couldn't stop.

Rory frowned at him for a moment, and then she cracked. She chuckled with him, and then hit him on the shoulder. "That's enough laughing at me!"

Still grinning, he rose to his feet. "I should take you with me whenever I go into a tomb like this."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: **Graphic smuttiness, peeps. I apologize for the sudden change from Aldric's perspective to Rory's mid-chapter - I felt it was necessary for the scene.

* * *

**Chapter 31**

Aldric used the ivory claw to lower the two iron gates leading into the tomb. He took the key with him, intending it to store it or destroy it somewhere. Folgunthur, and the amulet within, were not untouchable, but without the key it would be an immensely difficult task.

The sun was rising when they emerged from the tomb. Softened by the morning heat, the ice coating the dirt crackled under their feet as they left Folgunthur behind. They passed the small, old camping site just outside and something occurred to Aldric.

"Did you come by yourself?" he asked Rory.

"No."

"Who came with you?"

"Amon traveled with me until just before I reached the marshland." Rory's tone was clipped, and he could tell something was off.

"Did something happen?"

"Not the way you think," she told him, glancing at him. "He said something."

"What did he say?" Aldric pressed.

She shook her head. "I would rather not bring it up again, if it's all the same to you. He angered me, and I'd like to forget about it."

That was fair, he supposed. "Very well. How are things at Snowpoint?"

"They're handling themselves." Rory sounded sad. "As well as they can be expected to. Kyrr fears another attack."

Aldric agreed with that. "He's right to. If the clan keeps sending vampires out to kill you or the pack, and they keep disappearing, eventually this will grow worse. We'll lead the pack into a war, just like Kyrr thought we would."

"I know that, Aldric," Rory replied tersely. "I know that we need to leave them, but I also fear that if we do, there _will_ be another attack. One that we won't be there to help with. Snowpoint isn't defenseless—they're not weak—but they cannot fight off what's coming. Many of them don't have weapons. They prefer to fight as their beast, which is common to many werewolves."

"Perhaps we should send for Aela and Farkas, the way they wanted us to," Aldric mused.

Rory looked displeased. "I'm not entirely convinced they could handle a threat of this magnitude, either."

"Both of them are trained warriors. Aela is also familiar with doing battle as her wolf."

"That does not sit well with me, Aldric," she insisted. "I can't explain it."

He changed the subject. "Did Kyrr have the bodies of the vampires searched?"

"Yes," she said grimly. "There was nothing on them besides a few personal belongings. Nothing like the note."

"What do you think we should do now?"

Rory stopped walking. "I wanted to visit the Dawnguard when we were in Riften. That hasn't changed. We have no other option besides waiting for more death at Snowpoint."

Aldric had predicted she would say that. "Then we need to find some way to make sure that Snowpoint remains safe."

"The only thing we can do is to wait until Kyrr is appeased," she pointed out. "If we stay another few weeks and see no action, then it will be easier for me to leave them behind."

He nodded. "That's about the only thing we can do."

Inwardly, he was hoping the waiting would provide a bit of respite. Aldric didn't mind the travel and the conflict, but he minded having someone else to care about. Through everything he'd done in Skyrim so far, he'd always avoided having anyone partner with him, save for the occasional mercenary when he felt something was a little too challenging for him alone.

Now, he felt like he had two backs to watch—his own, and Rory's. It was stressful, but the last thing he wanted to do was separate.

* * *

Kyrr had not taken kindly to the idea of he and Rory departing for The Rift, as they'd thought.

"Why can Rory not stay here with the pack while you travel to Fort Dawnguard?" he'd asked.

"We left my sister with people Aldric trusted in Riften. I would like to visit her and see how she's been faring with them," Rory said.

Kyrr was curious. "Who do you trust enough to protect her?"

"Very good friends, Kyrr," Aldric replied. "She's safe, just outside of the city in a small stronghold."

"I still do not understand why both of you must leave at once. I would feel much more secure if one of you stayed," Kyrr reiterated stubbornly.

Rory let out a growl of frustration.

The conversation from that point had become tense, until Rory pointed out he wasn't their alpha and could not command them to stay. Kyrr was astute enough to grasp the veiled threat that they could simply leave and never return, and accepted their plan to stay until it seemed safe.

Ever since the day when she'd unleashed on him, he had been very careful around Rory. Amon continued to linger around her, trying to start conversations when he wasn't around. Judging by his bruised face when they'd returned from Folgunthur, Rory had not been shy about retaliating for whatever he'd said, but it didn't seem to deter him.

Aldric tried to push down the growing worry he felt about Amon. Rory mostly ignored him, but a time or two he caught her smiling at something he'd said. But then again, he'd also caught her slapping him across the face, so there was that.

He still slept in the bed with her, and she still curled up to him at night, but he hadn't initiated anything with her since the night they'd fought, and neither had she. For almost two weeks, she was equally stiff, but she gradually grew comfortable again. Since then, there were many instances that reminded him of the night in Riften—many stolen kisses and touches, and then something would change, and she would pull away from him.

Nights became torturous. It grew to the point where he began to dread when the sun went down, because retiring to the tent he shared with Rory was a lesson in anxiety and self-doubt. Aldric began to lose sleep because the tension they built up every night was leaving him on edge.

He knew what she was avoiding. He was aware that she was just as frustrated as he was, but they had crossed some invisible line, and the act he fantasized about constantly would mean that they would become mated to each other.

So he contented himself with distracting her. When the tension got to be too much, he asked her questions.

So far, he'd learned that her mother's name had been Cora, and her father's name had been Lukas. Rory had chosen to wield a sword in each hand as her preferred method of close combat due to an unfortunate accident with a shield when she was fifteen. Her love of ebony weaponry was inherited from her father, who had used them exclusively.

He had a long list of questions that he wanted answered, but that she refused to entertain. She still had not talked about the Maksim Andreas had mentioned, so he dropped the issue until she felt ready to talk about it.

* * *

One night, Rory's self-control seemed to snap. He was on his back in bed, and she was straddling him; a dangerous position, they'd found, because of her tendency to move her hips against him, and the accident in Honeyside had been repeated a time or two.

That night was no different. She pressed directly against him as she rocked back and forth, kissing him fiercely. The friction felt so good, but Aldric seized her hips and forced her to stop.

"Time to get off," he panted.

Ignoring him, she bit down hard on his lower lip and he groaned. He wrapped a hand in her hair and pulled her away from him. He immediately realized his mistake when he saw her eyes.

He'd learned, through a combination of memory and experience, that using physical strength to dominate her when they were intimate was something that greatly tested her control. He avoided it because he didn't want her to consent to something she'd regret later.

Aldric let go of her hair at once, and she frowned at him, eyes flashing. She moved down his body and tugged down his smallclothes in one smooth movement.

"Don't," he protested, hardly believing that was coming out of his mouth. "I can't take any more tonight."

"I can," she said, and he recognized the dark tone to her voice.

* * *

Rory parted his legs with a hand on either knee. She ran her hands up and down his muscular thighs, her nails dragging along his skin until she came close to his erection. Like every night, he was so hard it looked painful, pressing against his own stomach.

It was the first time she'd gotten a good, long look at him. Aldric usually refused to fully undress when they played, feeling that it was too much of a temptation. She normally agreed with him, but tonight, she'd had enough.

He was long and thick, but not intimidating. The trail of hair from his navel that she loved so much grew to sparse, darker hair that framed him delicately, but not so much as to get in the way.

Rory pulled her cotton tunic off. She could still see the fading, purplish imprint of his teeth on the side of her left breast from his bite earlier. Aldric started to sit up, leaning his head toward the same breast, and aggression rose in her as she pushed him on his back again.

She held his smooth hips in her hands, and she ached with the intense desire to situate herself over those hips and lower herself onto him. She contented herself with leaning forward and drawing her tongue in a firm lick along the underside of his shaft.

"No teeth," he said immediately when she opened her mouth wider.

Rory laughed low in her throat, and wrapped her fingers around the base of him. She moved her hand up and down several times experimentally, feeling the velvety muscle of him in her hand.

"Do you like that?" she asked him.

He nodded.

She leaned forward again and captured one of his testicles in her mouth, sucking gently before releasing it. "Do you like that?"

He groaned. "Stop, stop teasing me."

"The look on your face right now…" She rubbed her hand along him for a few seconds, and then she abruptly took him in her mouth.

Aldric tossed his head back, eyes shut and brows furrowed, and groaned out. She worked at him for a few moments, slowly, licking her tongue along him languorously as she tasted him.

"Move yourself up on your elbows," she ordered.

He didn't bother arguing, and did as she asked. "Why?"

"I want to watch your face," she told him.

She rolled her eyes up to meet his as he entered her mouth again, and this time she didn't stop moving forward until her lips nearly touched his front. Aldric's eyes were wide and desperate, his pupils dilated. Her throat worked around him briefly until she had to pull back.

She coughed. "That did not feel as good as I thought it would."

Aldric's voice was husky. "Yes, it did."

Rory closed her lips around him again. She moved her head up and down quickly as she sucked at him, careful to keep her teeth from scraping him. Her hand took the place that she couldn't reach, twisting around him gently.

She licked at him, swirling her tongue around the head of him, and glanced up at him as she did it. His pale hair was damp, strands hanging in his face, and it seemed like every muscle in his body was coiled and tense. Her eyes roamed over his powerfully built body, enjoying the way his skin glistened with sweat in the lantern light.

Rory didn't stop until his thighs shook and he moaned for her. Hearing his deep voice calling out like that tightened things low in her body. Suddenly, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm about to…"

"I know what happens," she said dryly, her hand pumping him. He made a slick sound in her palm, wet from her mouth.

She pushed him into her mouth again and moved her head faster. Aldric grabbed fistfuls of the fur underneath him, and his head fell back as he panted. His hips bucked and he thrust into her mouth with a shout as she brought him to his peak. Rory held still and swallowed his semen until he gave no more.

She planted a kiss on the soft skin of his hip before she sat up. She couldn't help feeling proud at the expression on his face as he looked at her. His eyes were dazed and unfocused, his lips parted.

"I think you sent me back to Sovngarde," he mumbled.

Rory tossed her head back, laughing.

"Come here." He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply.

She could feel his calloused hand sliding lower down her back, until it dipped between the cleft of her backside. A finger brushed her entrance from behind and she jumped.

Rolling off him, she rested on her side, burrowing her head into his chest. "No."

"You brought me pleasure," he said gently. "I would very much like to do the same for you."

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her body sang with tension, which was delicious and infuriating in its own right, but if Aldric were to touch her, she was certain she would lose all control.

"Not tonight." Her breath was hot as she exhaled against his skin. "You've asked me so many questions. I have some for you."

He accepted her distraction with a sigh, and pulled the furs over them both. She hooked an arm over his torso and snuggled closer to him. "I suppose that's all right."

"Exactly how old are you?" she said immediately.

He chuckled. "I'll be thirty-five on the second of Evening Star."

"Where were you born? What were your parents like?"

"My mother gave birth to me on the road from Cyrodiil into Skyrim. She was a farmer's daughter and I did not know my father growing up. I never learned much about him; she didn't like speaking of him." Aldric's voice was serious. "She only ever told me that he was much older than she was when they met, and that he was not a good person."

Rory was taken aback. With Aldric's kind and gentle nature, she'd always assumed he'd grown up raised by a close, loving family. "Is your mother still alive?"

"No." His hand stroked her arm. "She died when I was seventeen. She'd been sick for a while. I'd struck out on my own doing whatever small job I could find for gold. When I returned one summer, the house was boarded up and closed."

"What did you do then?" She rose to prop herself up on an elbow, looking down at him.

His eyes wandered over her face before he answered. "I met a sellsword in a tavern in Bravil, two years later. Caius. He was an old drunk, and he told me I was too tall and strong to be a thief. He taught me what he knew of swordplay and archery."

"Was he good to you?"

He smiled as he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Three years after I met him, he took all the gold I'd saved up and left in the middle of the night."

"I regret asking you anything at all," she grumbled, lying down again at his side. "Every next thing that comes from your mouth is worse than what you've just said."

Aldric laughed. "I think I've done well for myself, despite my past." He leaned over and deftly captured her earlobe with his teeth, drawing it into his mouth.

She shuddered, caught off guard, and she didn't resist when his hand crept across her waist. He kissed her, and when he parted her lips with his tongue, his fingertips found her most sensitive spot between her legs, stroking with quick efficiency.

Only a moment later, and he had her writhing under his touch. Rory breathlessly broke the kiss to moan against his ear. He pulled back, his wintery blue eyes intense on hers. He slipped a finger into her, and when he discovered how wet she was, he added a second.

She forcefully bit her lip to keep from calling out. He drew his fingers in and out of her skillfully, and moved his thumb to find her nub again. Aldric kept up the expert dance of his hand until she was shivering uncontrollably.

Her breathing changed every time he passed over a spot just inside, and he noticed. Smiling devilishly, he flicked his fingertips against it rapidly, and she cried out. The pressure was almost too much to bear.

Rory almost pushed his hand away, and then he took her over the edge. Her back arched, the crown of her head touching the bed as she came. She clenched and shuddered around his fingers, her hips thrusting wildly against his hand.

No longer caring about remaining quiet, she screamed while the waves of pleasure rode her body. After a second, Aldric settled himself on top of her, pinning her to the bed, and covered her mouth in a kiss. She bit his lip, gasping for air, and his hand circled her throat, his thumb caressing her jaw.

"Someone's going to think I'm hurting you in here," he murmured, grinning, still fighting with her as her body bucked.

At that exact moment, Kaspar's voice sounded directly outside the tent's opening. "Do you need assistance?"

Aldric couldn't quite keep the laugh from his voice as he answered the scout. "Thank you, Kaspar, we're fine."

"I was not asking you, Aldric," Kaspar replied, and Rory's respect for the man doubled.

She wasn't sure she could speak at first, and she cleared her throat. Unfortunately, Kaspar didn't wait long enough, and ducked in under the hide covering.

When he saw the two of them on the bed, his face reddened, but he didn't leave. His eyes found Rory's and he frowned. "You are all right?"

She flapped her arm at him, unable to coordinate her muscles. "Get out, Kaspar."

He turned and left with a broad smile on his face. "I am glad to see you have forgiven each other."


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: **Hey everyone! I've run into a problem - internet is down at my home and I'm not sure when it'll be back. It could be later today, but it could be longer than that. I may not be able to post for a little while, so to make up for that I'm posting this chapter and also Chapter 33.

Thank you so much to the new followers and those who have favorited. I especially appreciate the new reviews. If you are liking the story, don't hesitate to tell me! :-)

* * *

**Chapter 32**

Aldric came out of his tent one day to find Seraph standing there, like he had been waiting for him.

"Good morning, Aldric," the blond man greeted him. "You are well?"

"I am, thank you, Seraph. Is there something I can do for you?"

The healer smiled. "I have just come from examining one of our women. She has conceived, and will bear a child in the late spring. I thought I would invite you to walk with me for a moment before I return to the cabin."

Aldric was too curious to turn him down. "All right, I'll walk with you."

Seraph led the way down the mountain. He was hailed warmly by many of the pack members, who offered him food or drink. It was obvious to Aldric that he was well loved and respected in Snowpoint.

He shared their opinion of him. Seraph was a very formal person who did not bother with trying to be warm or friendly, but he was sociable in his own way. Aldric had been impressed with his skill and the way he'd kept his head while dealing with Kaspar.

When they were far enough from the people in the camp, he turned to Aldric, crossing his arms over his leather tunic. "I sense you are still locked in competition with Amon."

The topic was not one Aldric had been expecting from him. "I was under the impression that he wasn't an opponent."

Seraph surprised him by smiling broadly. His face, which was more beautiful than handsome, benefited from the gesture. "He thinks he is."

"I'm aware that he does, but Rory hasn't shown any interest in him. Why are you talking about this with me, Seraph?"

The other man glanced up the hill. "I am merely concerned for my brother. I fear his is developing an obsession with Rory. There have been times when he has been near your quarters and has heard the sounds of your lovemaking. It infuriates him. Amon is normally a man of tolerance, but you are not mated to her yet. He still believes he has a chance."

Aldric was disturbed by the healer's admission that Amon had been listening to them. He had phrased it in a way that made it sound accidental, but he was somehow certain that it was anything but. "What, exactly, are you saying?"

"Kyrr is of a mind that if it is going to happen, he prefer it happens soon," Seraph said simply.

His annoyance began to bloom into anger. "This is not anyone's business but mine and Rory's. We will not be pushed into something because it's inconvenient to you."

"Amon has been made Kyrr's new second, as you know. Our pack leader cannot interfere with these kinds of situations, but he is displeased with the way Amon has allowed this to affect him." The wind blew Seraph's long, golden hair over his shoulder. "If you seal the bond between the two of you, Amon will be forced to give up."

Aldric held his own doubt about that statement. "Shouldn't you be on your brother's side in this? Why come to me?"

Seraph laughed. "I love my brother, but I do not wish him to be mated to Rory. I know her secret, and that is not something my brother can handle."

"What?" Aldric demanded, a jolt shocking through him. "How do you know that?" All of his pleasant feelings toward Seraph evaporated at once.

"I take care of the old man, Kyrr's father," the healer explained. "Kyrr confides in his father. He has days where his mind is as mist settled over a valley. Andreas is not always aware of what he is saying and to whom he is saying it. I have learned much from him over the past month."

The tone of his words was not aggressive, but the look in his eye was indecipherable. "Are you threatening me, Seraph?"

Seraph smiled again, the shrewd look on his face chased away by mirth. "No, my friend, I am merely informing you."

"Does Amon know?"

"No, my brother does not know. Being the alpha's second is a place of great honor and intimacy, but Kyrr has not shared it with him. He wishes to avoid all mention of Rory, as well as the fact that he respects Rory's privacy."

"Are you going to tell him?" Aldric asked bluntly.

"I will not lie to you, I have considered the idea," Seraph replied. "But no, I will not tell him unless I feel that the situation requires it. You are close to leaving for the Rift, yes?"

"We depart in a week." Aldric had been hesitating to leave the pack, but with what he'd just learned, he was eager for separation.

Seraph studied him. "And will you return?"

"That depends on what we learn. If we discover anything useful, we will pursue it. If not, then I'm not sure. It's not safe to remain here," Aldric observed.

"You are a very unique individual, Aldric," Seraph said suddenly. "The energy you hold is unlike anything I have ever beheld in my life. I have never tasted your kind of magic, and I likely never will again. It intrigues me."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. "I could say the same of you, Seraph. You're one of a kind."

Seraph seemed to find that amusing, and laughed until moisture gathered in his eyes. "Thank you for being diplomatic. Amon is not shy about commenting on my strange qualities."

"I can't say that I'm happy to hear what you've told me today," Aldric said, "but I am grateful to have learned it, regardless."

The other man sobered. "If you return to Snowpoint, I would strongly suggest that you are mated. I wish to preserve my brother's sanity."

That did nothing to assuage his growing concern over the situation. Amon was a nasty person, but nothing he couldn't handle. The thought of the werewolf becoming insane with jealousy was another issue altogether. "It was good speaking with you, Seraph."

* * *

Rory was, predictably, upset that Seraph knew of her hybrid nature. "I don't trust him!"

"Why?" Aldric asked, eating his midday meal in the tent with her. "He's harmless. He is odd, I'll admit, but he's not a bad person."

"Something about him gnaws at me," she snapped. "He has a strange look in his eyes."

He swallowed the last of his stew and set the bowl aside. "Come eat. You're making too much a deal out of this."

Rory furiously tore a loaf of bread apart with her hands. "What else did he say?"

Aldric hesitated. He knew he had to tell Rory about Amon, but he didn't want to. It would only set her off further.

After he'd finished telling her what Seraph had said, Rory sat in silence, her face still. "I'll kill him."

"Let's relax," Aldric suggested. "Think this through. You can't kill him for having interest."

"No," she agreed, "but it's within every female's rights to react if a male is too insistent when it comes to taking a mate. That kind of harassment is not tolerated."

"That may be so, but he keeps his distance. He doesn't follow you around or try to touch you," Aldric pointed out.

"Yet."

"If it comes to that, then by all means, have at it." He took a sip of mead.

Rory mumbled something.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Seraph is right, though," she said, louder.

"About what?"

She picked at the bread. "It would solve a lot of problems if we bonded."

He thought about that for a moment before he answered. "It would," he started, speaking slowly, "but I don't want to do it simply because it makes sense."

Rory darted a glance at him before looking down again. "I didn't mean to say it like that."

"You don't want to be attached for life to someone you don't love," he said.

She was quiet.

The voice in the back of his head cautioned, _Stop, don't push. You'll start something again_, but he ignored it and said instead, "Has it occurred to you that you'd outlive me?"

Hurt flashed in her eyes before it was replaced by anger. "Why would you say something like that to me?

"Don't you think about that?" he asked.

"I would have outlived my mother if she hadn't died, and I've lasted longer than any other human I have met, save for Andreas, but his time is coming fast." She threw the bread down on the low table. "And you don't know that I'd outlive you. You're…not wholly mortal."

"So you _have_ thought about it."

"Of course I have."

"It didn't stop you from bonding with Maksim."

Rory's jaw tightened, but she didn't warn him off. "You can't forget about that? It has nothing to do with you. It happened, and it ended. It affects you very little."

"Rory, just because he's not around to challenge me the way Amon is, does not mean that I don't want to know," he objected. "If I had been married to a woman years ago, wouldn't you want to know about her?"

She bristled. "Have you been married?"

"No. I've never had a wife. But if I had, you'd want to know about her."

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

He gestured with his hand. "It's the same."

Such a long time passed that he started to think she was going to change her mind. "What do you want to know?"

Aldric held back from showing his anticipation, not wanting to scare her off. "How did you meet him?"

Rory wouldn't look at him. "He was a pack member. He was strong enough to be an alpha, but he had no interest in leadership."

"But how did you meet him?"

"On a hunt."

"How long did you know him before you bonded to him?"

She ran her hands through her hair, resting her elbows on the table. "A year, more or less."

"And you loved him?"

Rory glared at him. "Yes, I loved him. Do you think I'm incapable of feeling that? I loved Maksim. I didn't expect finding that with anyone when I traveled to Snowpoint. I was doing it because my mother insisted on it, and then no time at all passed before I was in love with a man and trying to have a baby. I didn't plan any of it!"

Her outburst startled him, and he made his voice as calm as it could be. "Sharing this is a good thing."

She scoffed gently, looking away again.

"What was he like?"

"He was…he made me laugh. He was kind to everyone around him. Maks was loved by everyone in the pack."

Aldric almost didn't ask his next question, but he was too curious. "What did he look like?"

"He was handsome. Long dark hair like mine. He used to have me braid it for him. Straight nose. Thin lips, always smiling." Suddenly, her face crumpled, and she sucked in a breath.

He took her hand, and she let him. "What happened to him?"

"He died."

Aldric had expected that. "How?"

"I enjoyed pack life, but I wanted to return to my parents. He wanted to come with me. I was too in love with him to leave him behind, so I brought him." Her voice was thick, but not a single tear fell. "My mother wasn't fond of him, but she was that way with everyone. My father liked him. He allowed Maks to come with he and I when we traveled, looking for his clan. He was killed on one trip."

"By your father's clan?"

"Yes." She looked up at him, something burning in her eyes. "Do you want children?"

He blinked, and scratched at his head while he tried to figure out how to answer that. "I never thought I'd want them when I was younger, but I changed my mind as I grew. Yes, I think I'd like to have children."

The corner of Rory's mouth pulled up in a half-smile. "You would be a good father," she told him. "I don't think I can give that to you."

"You don't want children anymore?"

She twisted her hand out of his grasp. "I don't think I'll ever be able to have a baby, Aldric."

He watched the pain on her face flicker, and then disappear. "Why do you think that?"

"I tried for almost ten years with Maksim. It never happened."

"You told me it was hard for werewolves to reproduce."

"Not like that. My father seemed to think it had something to do with what I am, that being a hybrid affected my fertility."

He sat back, thinking.

She mistook his silence for disappointment. "You deserve to be with someone who can give you children."

"I want you more than I want children." He locked his gaze with hers.

She swallowed. "If I were ever going to bond with someone else, it would be you, Aldric," she admitted, looking away.

He was afraid that was as close as he would ever get to hearing her say she loved him. "We don't have to talk about this anymore, if you want to stop."

She nodded, too many times. "Thank you."

* * *

That night, he was unable to rest. Rory had fallen into a deep sleep almost immediately after climbing into bed. As usual, she slept with her head resting on his shoulder, her leg twined with his. He was grateful for the additional warmth and normally enjoyed the contact, though it could be aggravating sometimes when he needed to get more comfortable.

He almost laughed when he thought about the contrast between the way she was asleep and awake. When she was awake, she was hesitant to show any kind of affection to him, besides the physical, and when she was asleep, she clung to him. If he rolled, she didn't let go and simply adjusted. If he moved away from her, it took only seconds before she frowned in her sleep and flung her arms out to search for him, and she would scoot all the way over to the other side of the bed until she found him.

Not for the first time, he considered his options when it came to his future. If Rory never changed her mind, never wanted to bond with him, what would he do then? It was difficult to imagine never seeing her again, but at the same time, it was impossible to picture continuing things the way they were until he was too old to find a wife, or have children.

His mind wandered. He imagined meeting another woman, making her his wife, being a husband. Having babies. What kind of woman would he want? A warrior like him, or someone different—a merchant or an innkeeper or a healer?

When Aldric realized the wife in his imagination, the one living in his home in Falkreath, was Rory, he groaned out loud and pressed his hand into his eyes, trying to rub the exhaustion away.

She shifted in her sleep next to him. For a second, he thought she was awake, but her breathing never changed. Her arm rose, and she drifted her hand up to his jaw, tenderly holding his face.

Aldric felt like his heart was being squeezed by an invisible fist. If this was love, then why did it hurt so much?


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: **Lilly is just so fun to write.

* * *

**Chapter 33**

Smoke was everywhere. It was pouring from the room at the end of the cave that she was never allowed in, and it was very black. The fire inside roared like some scary, huge creature.

They'd set the other rooms on fire, too. They used some kind of shiny, stinky liquid to make sure even the rock burned. Her new bedroom had been the first when they didn't find her in there. She could hear them yelling at each other as they looked for her.

Lilly coughed and blinked as tears streamed from her stinging eyes. She could taste the smoke in her mouth, and her throat burned all the way down to her stomach from the heat in the air.

She was hiding under Karliah's bed in the front of the Hall. It was her favorite place to go to when Brynjolf played hide and seek with her—he never found her because he never thought to look right under his nose.

The doll Rory had given her was clutched tightly in her arm. As soon as she had heard the unfamiliar voices in the back room, that was the first thing she grabbed. She already lost her first dolly, and she wasn't about to lose this one, either.

In her other hand was Rory's other present, the ebony dagger. She never told Brynjolf or Karliah that she had it. They probably would have taken it away from her. She was glad she had it now, because she didn't know where either of the two Nightingales were.

A pair of strange boots ran past her hiding spot, followed by two more. A fourth person walked by but stopped near the bed.

"He assured us we would not fail, that they were confident no one would find them!" a voice yelled. "How can this place be empty?!"

"Did you search _everywhere_, Marcus?" a woman asked, sounding upset. "Every room, every corner?"

Lilly flinched when she heard a slap. "Of course I did, you sniveling child!"

Another voice, a nervous man's, spoke up. "We can't go back empty-handed."

The woman from before talked again. "If we go back like this, he'll kill us."

"Not if I do it first," Marcus threatened. "I don't care about those two sneak thieves, but we need the girl. Find her, and we can leave."

They scattered. Lilly's hand was sweaty on the knife's handle. For a minute or two, there was just the sound of the fire in the back of the cave. Then she felt hands on her ankles as someone dragged her out from under the bed.

She screamed, more scared then she'd ever been in her life. The ebony knife slipped from her hand. Where were Brynjolf and Karliah? They told Rory she would be safe with them!

The vampire grabbed her arm too hard, pinching her skin under the sleeve of her dress, and pulled her up to her feet. He yelled for the others, and Lilly's heart pounded faster when she saw them coming around the corner.

The lady looked happy. "Find Marcus!" she told one of the others.

A man walked up to her. He was uglier than the others, with a nose too short for his face and bones that pushed out from under his skin. He reminded Lilly of a skeever.

"There you are, you little bitch!" He grinned at her, showing his sharp fangs. "Give her to me, Taluril. I'll take very good care of her."

The Dunmer man holding her shoved her at the other vampire. She fell against him, and he picked her up. She looked up at his face, afraid of the smile he was giving her.

Rory had told her once that if she was ever going to be taken away—if the vampires ever won—that it wouldn't be good. Lilly knew that they were going to hurt her or do other bad things to her.

She was too afraid to do anything, though. She remembered everything she had been taught about fighting, but her arms and legs felt like they were frozen in ice.

The vampire saw her dolly and snatched it. She made a grab for it, too late, and he slapped her arm away.

"What's this?" he frowned at the toy. "That's a stupid thing to have. Aren't you too old for dolls?"

And his clawed hands ripped it in half. He tossed the pieces of it behind her. She could hear them plop into the water of the stream near the entrance.

Just like that, she wasn't afraid anymore. She didn't have any room to be afraid, because it felt like the anger was filling up her whole body. He looked down at her, and he must have seen how mad she was, because he started laughing at her.

He put an arm around her, touching the back of her neck with his cold hand. "Let's find Marcus."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" she screamed, digging her heels into the ground.

Lilly pulled away and turned to face him, grabbing his hand with both of hers. He tried to shake her off, frowning, but she didn't let go. Rory always told her she was stronger than she thought she was.

Snapping his wrist was too easy, like breaking a little branch in half. Once the bones were broken, ripping his hand off was even easier.

He howled in pain, and threw himself away from her, holding his lower arm in front of his face. The blood was icky, but she looked away from him when another vampire ran at her.

Before he got too close, there was a flash of light behind him. Brynjolf appeared out of thin air like magic, and his hand grabbed the vampire's jaw. The tip of Brynjolf's dagger pushed out from his chest.

Karliah had appeared next to him, holding her bow. The vampire woman jumped at her, and Karliah grunted as she kicked her in the chest. The other woman stumbled, and Karliah fired an arrow into her throat.

Another vampire lunged at Lilly while both Brynjolf and Karliah were busy fighting the others. His legs were wide apart, and suddenly Lilly remembered something.

She drove her boot up between his legs as hard as she could. When he shrieked and dropped to the ground immediately, holding his pelvis, she laughed out loud. Her sister was right—that _did_ hurt boys!

She looked away as Brynjolf came up to kill that vampire, too. Lilly saw the man that had lost a hand trying to stand up. He was losing a lot of blood, and looked scared, like he was going to run away.

On the shelf next to Karliah's bed, Lilly spied a book that Brynjolf read to her every night. She grabbed it and ran over to the vampire that had ripped her dolly apart. He wasn't getting away that easy.

She held it so tight that her fingers hurt, raising it over her left shoulder as she aimed at him. She slammed it into the side of his face as hard as she could. He fell to the ground and Lilly watched him spit out a tooth. He looked up at her, shocked, and Lilly saw that he'd lost one of his fangs.

"What about bedtime stories?" she yelled at him furiously. "Am I too old for _those?_"

She felt Brynjolf grab her around the waist as she raised the book up for another hit. "That's enough, lassie," he panted. "It's time to leave."

"Wait!" She scrambled on her hands and knees to the bed, finding her ebony dagger. Then she ran to the water behind the beds. She picked up the two halves of her dolly. It could be fixed.

"Let's go, Lilly, right now." Karliah pulled her by the hand over the stone bridge. When they got to the tunnel, Brynjolf picked her up.

Lilly was afraid there would be more vampires waiting for them outside, but there was no one. The two Nightingales ran to the city gates, and Karliah talked to one of them about the vampires inside the Hall.

Brynjolf set her down. "I need a quill and some paper," he said to one of the guards. After a little bit, they brought it to him. He scribbled something on the paper, and Lilly squeezed the halves of her dolly, trying to get all the water out.

After a moment, Brynjolf folded the paper up into a little square before giving it back to the guard. "When the Guildmaster comes back, give this to him."

"Who's the Guildmaster?" Lilly asked him as he picked her up again.

"The Guildmaster is someone very important that all the guards know to look out for," he told her.

"Is it Aldric?" she guessed.

He laughed. "You're too smart for your own good, little one."

She rested her head on his shoulder as they left the town behind. Karliah and Brynjolf left the road and ran right into the dark forest, their feet making no sound.

Lilly didn't know where they were going, but she felt safe as long as Brynjolf held her in his strong arms.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: **I love my readers so much. You guys make me blush with your reviews. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

* * *

**Chapter 34**

Rory and Aldric faced each other once Riften's north gate was in sight. She was tired after a long week of travel. The decision to get a bit of sleep in before going to Nightingale Hall was an easy one. She felt like she was dead on her feet.

"If I'm not back tomorrow, wait for me," Aldric told her. "It's likely that they'll have something for me to do before they agree to help. I'll send word if that's the case."

"Yes, I remember the plan." She rubbed at her face.

He smiled. "Get some sleep, and I'll see you soon. Tell Lilly I'll be back to see her when I return from the fort. Iona or the guards will have correspondence for me. Look through it for me, will you? Aela may have written."

He hesitated before walking away, and she knew he was debating whether or not to kiss her. She grabbed him by the buckles across his front and pulled him to her. It was the first time since Folgunthur that they'd be truly separated. She knew he was fully capable of defending himself against every possible threat he encountered, but she still felt anxious.

He murmured in surprise against her mouth at the fierceness of her kiss. When she pulled back, he smirked. "I won't be away for _that_ long."

She stroked her hand along his hair. "Good luck."

Then she walked away, before she changed her mind about coming with him. She needed to see Lilly.

The guard at the gate raised an arm to her before she could push her way into the city. "Yes?" she asked him, surprised.

He paused. "You're not the Guildmaster, but…"

Rory raised a brow. "But what?"

"You were with him not long ago on his last visit, right?"

"That's right."

He seemed even more anxious than she felt, rubbing the back of his neck. "When will he be back?"

"He'll be away for some time," she said warily, starting to get suspicious.

He straightened up and looked at her. "Can I trust you with his mail?"

"Yes. I'll make sure he gets it." She held her hand out for the leather bundle he was holding. It was stuffed with many letters crafted from many different kinds of paper.

"Good." The guard sagged, visibly relieved. "On your way, then."

Within Honeyside, Iona greeted her with a straight, unreadable face and directed her to the food she'd prepared. After eating, Rory made her way to the bed. She pulled off her boots, making a face at how sore her feet were.

She collapsed on top of the blankets, staring at the letters addressed to Aldric. She knew she should look through them before she fell asleep.

"You can wait," she told the mail, and closed her eyes.

* * *

When she woke, she was surprised to see that it was daytime again. She ventured out onto the porch outside the bedroom. The midmorning sun was unusually warm for the season, and the lake lent a muggy feeling to the day.

She bathed quickly and ate even faster. Hair still damp, she descended the stairs of the porch and trotted to the road outside the southwest gate, looking for the path Aldric had showed her.

Rory had barely started into the brush before a smell stopped her. The breeze carried the scent of an old fire to her nose. The smoke had faded to a dusty, sweet smell, but it was fresh enough to be recent. It was coming from the direction of the Hall.

Heart pounding, she forced herself to walk calmly. She was used to immediately assuming the worst, a negative quality she tried to override sometimes. She made it approximately five seconds at the relaxed pace before her instincts took over and had her running.

Fear roiled in her gut like a living thing when she made it to the clearing. The door to the Hall was off its hinges, resting in the dirt in front of the standing stone. Scorch marks painted the ground in front of the gaping entrance.

Rory approached the Hall like she was in a trance. Leaping to the forefront of her mind unbidden, the dream she'd had about the vampire dropping Lilly into fire replayed itself.

Numbly, she walked inside. All the plant life in the tunnel had been turned into soft, blackened strings that crumbled under her feet. The stench of smoke and something sharper clawed at her nose.

She stood at the stone bridge, staring at the destruction in front of her. A curious fox nosed through the wreckage, and then perked up as it noticed her. It darted past her still form.

Fire had eaten its way into the cavern, but had been largely unsuccessful at its job. The small living area was relatively untouched by flame. One of the beds had been shoved out of place.

There were bodies on the ground. A thrill of fear went through her went she saw that there were three of them, but as she crept closer, she saw that they were all too big to be Lilly.

She ran past them, further into the Hall. The training room was empty as usual, charred inside. The bedroom across the hall had met the same fate. All the furniture had been destroyed.

The natural cavern at the very end of the Hall appeared to be the source of the fire. The tang of a vaguely familiar substance hung in the air. Judging by the singed walls of the cave, the vampires had used a manmade agent to feed the fire. Stone didn't burn.

She crossed the walkway to the glyph in the center, looking up at the ceiling. There were small, circular holes in the rock above each of the three symbols, allowing beams of daylight to pierce the dimness. The one she was looking at was more jagged than the others, and barely wide enough to admit a slim person. Looking at her feet, she saw that there were small pieces of rock and gravel scattered underneath the hole.

So this was how they'd entered. Somehow, they'd figured out the layout of the Hall and knew that they would find points of entry in this room. Rory strode back into the main part of the Hall to get a look at the bodies.

Vampires. One of them had an arrow sprouting from its throat. Rory pulled it out and examined the prongs at the tip—daedric. A blade to the chest had dispatched the other two. She flipped one of the vampires over to his back and ripped open his gray leather tunic to examine the stab wound. The flesh was partially torn near the bottom of the gash, indicating that the blade had been serrated. Another daedric weapon. The third vampire had been treated to the same blade.

Not far away, a book was on the ground. She picked it up and looked at it; blood was spattered across the edge of it. It had been used as a weapon. Turning it over, she opened it and read the title. "_Fall of the Snow Prince_."

Her heart leapt. Lilly was obsessed with any mention of snow elves, no matter how minute, and the book was one she'd owned at their home in Falkreath. This one was likely hers.

Her eyes swept the floor again. She spotted a lump on the ground, and when she knelt, she found it was a severed hand. The fingers ended in cruel claws—it belonged to a vampire.

The skin around the edges of the wrist was torn, not cut. Neither Brynjolf nor Karliah possessed the strength to rip a man's hand from his arm, status as Nightingales notwithstanding. Had his own comrades torn him apart?

She searched the ground for more clues, and almost missed a small, white item on the stone floor.

Rory picked it up and held it between her fingers. It was a vampire's canine tooth, one of the sharp fangs that allowed them to feed. She smelled it, and matched it to the blood on the book, and the hand.

All this was connected somehow. She puzzled it over, thinking. Her fingers brushed over the pages of the book as her brain worked. Something with the book…what was this stupid thing about, anyway? She absently remembered that the story ended with the title character being killed by a little girl.

Rory looked down at the book, covered in the same blood belonging to the owner of the tooth and the hand, and it hit her suddenly. She began to laugh when she figured it out.

_Lilly_. Lilly had ripped the vampire's hand off, before or after she used the book as a blunt weapon to wallop him hard enough to knock a tooth out of his head. She'd fought her attackers, fought them like a little sabercat.

"That's my girl," she whispered fervently. Pride and hope edged in around the cold fear filling her, and tears pricked at her eyes.

Taking the book with her, she left the Hall and ran to the city. Only one guard stood outside the south gate, and she went straight up to him. "That cave over there," she barked, nodding to the east.

He knew what she was talking about right away. "The Jarl has ordered all citizens to stay away from there. You aren't to be poking around in it."

"Were you on post the night it happened?"

He shifted on his feet. "We're not supposed to talk about it."

Rory narrowed her eyes. "To me, you are. Were you on post that night?"

"Who says it was at night?" he observed mulishly.

Her patience was on a string as it was, and she prayed for patience. "Did you see anyone come out of there?"

He crossed his arms. "Even if I did, I already told you, I'm not supposed to talk about them with the likes of you."

Rory snapped. She wrapped her hand around his throat and shoved him tight against the wall before pushing upward, lifting him off his feet. Careful not to crush his windpipe, she applied enough pressure to keep him from trying to retaliate before repeating herself. "Did. You. See. Anyone. Come out. Of there?"

His hands clawed weakly at her arm, and he squeaked unintelligibly. She let him struggle for a moment before releasing him. He dropped to the ground and ripped his helmet off, hacking and coughing.

He turned his head to look up at her on his hands and knees, his hair in his eyes. In between gasps for air, he choked out, "Two people. Strange black armor. Had a little girl with them."

Rory knelt next to him, and he recoiled, scrambling away from her. "Did they say anything?"

Massaging his throat, he glared at her. "The man asked for materials to write a message."

"And where is the message?"

When he didn't answer right away, she made a sudden movement toward him, and he scuttled away from her like a mudcrab. "All right, all right! He told me to give it to the Guildmaster the next time I saw him. Please don't ask me more about that," he pleaded. "The Jarl isn't the only one who fills our pockets."

"Give me the message, or you'll answer to Aldric himself," she threatened.

His eyes widened. "I gave the note to the guards at the north gate, the one he usually enters the city by. They said they would include it in the mail they collect for him while he's away."

_The mail in Honeyside_. "Were any of them injured?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. They were here for less than a minute, I swear on the Nine. The girl didn't appear injured—she was more concerned with some kind of toy she had."

Before she pushed the gate open, she turned to him. "I speak for Aldric while he's away," she lied. "Tell your captain that he wants the guard duty on all three gates tripled. That means six of you at each gate, do you understand?"

Looking confused, he nodded.

"The attack on the cave was the work of vampires. They may be back to inspect what happened there." She stepped away from the gate and crouched in front of him again, and she let her voice get low. "I don't care if vampires are threatening to hurt you—if you tell anyone what you just told me, you had better pray to whatever gods you worship that I don't find you. If I do, you'll wish they'd killed you."

The young man looked suitably afraid, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I won't tell."

"Good."

She rose and entered the city, making her way to Honeyside. Iona was nowhere in sight, and she was relieved that the housecarl hadn't touched the bundle of correspondence that still rested on the night table.

Rory snapped the leather strings tying the bundle shut, and scattered the mail on the bed. Some of the letters were ornate, crafted from heavy, smooth paper and sealed with pretty waxes. Some of them were plain and left open for anyone to read.

She flipped through the open ones. Surely Brynjolf had not had the time or desire to seal his note. Panic began to rise in her chest when she reached the bottom of the pile and had not found anything from him.

Cracking open the wax seals, she pulled open the remaining letters. Nothing matched anything Brynjolf would have written. Her vision swam as she double- and triple-read everything.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a torn slip of paper that had been caught inside the flap of one of the sealed letters. She pulled it out with shaking fingers and smoothed it out on the blankets. Blotches of ink stained the note, some of the letters smeared.

* * *

_Aldric, _

_Vampires attacked the Hall. Killed three, one injured, leader got away. Lilly safe and whole, K and I as well. Leaving this note with guard at south gate, talk to him when you get this. Don't know if any more of them are coming, we have to run. Tell Rory not to worry, K is good at this kind of thing. Will write as soon as I can. _

_B_

* * *

Crammed underneath it was another sentence, the handwriting rushed as if it had been an afterthought.

* * *

_Rory, if you're reading this—you taught her well._

* * *

She blurted a laugh even as the letters blurred and distorted with the sudden tears rolling from the end of her nose. She read the message several more times before folding it and putting it in the small satchel at her hip.

Tremors shook her body as relief coursed through her. Lilly was safe—for now.

She wasn't sure of what she should do now. There was no way to track where Brynjolf and Karliah were now; even if they did send another letter, they would likely be gone from the place they sent it by the time it reached them.

Rory thought hard. Where would they think of going? Her first thought was Whiterun—the Companions were the next safest option to run to after an attack. But as she thought further, she decided against that. Brynjolf and Karliah were far too smart to go to any place or person connected with Aldric after what had happened.

There was no way to tell how the vampires had gotten the information to attack Nightingale Hall. Rory frowned as she went through the list of people that knew where Lilly had been placed.

They'd told the Companions, of course, and she figured the rest of the Thieves Guild knew at least a bit about their visit to the Hall. But none of the Guild members would know why—none of them had even seen Lilly.

Had Brynjolf told anyone? No, that didn't feel right, either.

She was certain they hadn't been followed. Vampires were cunning and sneaky, but even they couldn't mask their scent on the wind. She would have smelled them if they were anywhere nearby.

She was at a loss. Who had sold them out?


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** Yay! Internet's back! For those of you who have mentioned it, yes, I do try to update daily, or as close as I can get to that. Writing this has been so fun, and I'm eager to get to the ending. (If you're wondering, we are about 2/3 of the way through as of this chapter - providing I don't hijack my own brain and add a bunch of unforeseen stuff.) There is a good chance I will be writing a sequel to this as well. I love updating for my readers, and I love reading what you're thinking and predicting in the reviews.

**Random aside: have you guys downloaded the new console patch yet? I was excited to see the Legendary Skills, less excited to see that it fixed the misc. quest glitches (I still have a lot of problems with some of mine that the patch didn't fix. Why can't we inform Leifnarr's family of his death for god's sake!). It also removed the quest status from Gallus' journal so you can actually drop it now, haha. It also removed the Oghma Infinium glitch. I'm already about halfway into upgrading my archery skill into Legendary. Fun stuff!**

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**Chapter 35**

Seeing Riften again couldn't come sooner for Aldric. He'd been through many things in the past week, and his mind was blank with overstimulation. He hoped Rory would understand that he was going to sleep when he returned to Honeyside instead of traveling to Nightingale Hall first thing.

His trip to Fort Dawnguard had been a disaster.

At first, he'd been pleasantly surprised upon seeing the massive old structure. That pleasant surprise grew into hopeful excitement when he glimpsed the armored soldiers practicing outside. He'd met a battle-hardened Orc by the name of Durak who'd handed him a new kind of weapon he'd never seen before—a crossbow.

The device was constructed of a wooden stock held easily in both hands. It used a short string cranked back by a lever to create tension that projected steel bolts upon releasing a trigger found on the underside. The weapon was fascinating, and although it was slower than using a traditional bow, Aldric loved anything new that he could tinker with and take apart. He'd procured a second crossbow from Durak and couldn't wait to get it down to his cellar in Falkreath to start working with it.

Then he'd entered the fort.

The leader of the Dawnguard was a tall, strong Redguard man named Isran. By watching him argue with a Vigilant of Stendarr, it wasn't hard to grasp that Isran himself had been part of the Vigil. Apparently, spreading the God of Mercy's "compassion" across Skyrim hadn't been enough for him, and he'd founded the faction of vampire hunters.

That had almost been enough to turn Aldric away before even speaking to the man. He, like most anyone who traveled Skyrim's roads, had encountered his share of Vigilants on their unending quest to purge all daedra. He'd seen them battling lesser vampires, witches, and once even a Hagraven who'd strayed too far from her roost.

He took no issue with those who wanted to fight against the creatures that would otherwise harm innocent people. Unfortunately, though, the Vigil also pledged itself to rid Skyrim of werewolves. He'd had enough conversation with many different Vigilants that had passionately sworn that all werewolves were evil, murderous creatures, even lesser daedra.

Heart sinking, he realized that there was very little chance of procuring Isran's help without revealing that both he and Rory were werewolves. Isran's hatred of vampires was powerful, but it most likely wouldn't be enough to override his residual fear of shapeshifters like himself.

Then he'd caught Isran's gaze as he walked toward him. The man's eyes were liquid, nearly reflective silver, the same eyes every werewolf possessed. For a moment, he'd wondered if Isran was wolf. It would make sense—why he left the Vigil, why he fought against vampires.

Then he'd come close enough, and his scent confirmed it. He was a man—only a man. Isran held no beast of his own.

The other man, Vigilant Tolan, told him that the same vampires that had destroyed his headquarters, the Hall of the Vigilant, were deep into some kind of research that had led them to the crypt. They were searching for something, something of great importance to them.

He agreed to travel with Tolan to the location he'd tracked the vampires, Dimhollow Crypt, purely for selfish reasons—he wanted to know what they were up to.

Tolan hadn't made it far past the entrance of the cave. He'd managed to take down some of the vampires inside with him, however. Aldric encountered another of the undead canines inside, the same black, skeletal-looking beasts he'd fought with Rory in Riften. The bite on his elbow had stung uncomfortably for hours.

The deeper he made it into Dimhollow, the more suspicious he grew. He was about to turn back and withdraw, feeling like he was burrowing his way into a trap, until he hit the main cavern.

It was massive. The only other underground cave he'd encountered that was bigger had been Blackreach. Another Vigilant was murdered inside before he could help, and then he'd battled two other vampires and one of their thralls.

A steel spike had been driven through his hand after pressing an old mechanism in the middle of a platform. He'd felt some kind of magic siphoning his blood, and then the floor had burst into vivid light around him.

After healing his hand to the best of his ability, it took him nearly half an hour to figure out the key to the puzzle around the platform in the center of the cavern. After he'd discovered the combination to make the heavy braziers light up with the same pulsing, unfamiliar energy, a stone sarcophagus had risen from the floor.

Aldric had immediately drawn his weapon, expecting the coffin to reveal a draugr, or worse. He couldn't have been more wrong.

As he caught the woman that spilled from the inside, he barely registered that she was a vampire. All he knew at the moment was that she was unconscious and appeared weak. He gathered her in his arms gently, lowering her to the floor.

She quickly recovered, however, and began asking him questions. She was unlike any other vampire that he'd ever encountered—he sensed no malice from her whatsoever. And she was old—very old. She predated the Alessian Empire, something that sent a spike of fear through Aldric.

Serana possessed an Elder Scroll. She wore it on her back like a bow. What an ancient vampire was doing with a Scroll, he had no idea, but it immediately unnerved him.

Aldric logically knew that being the Dragonborn gave him no inherent right to any of the Elder Scrolls in existence; but having had close, personal contact with one, he knew that the power they held should not come into the hands of the vampires she was connected with.

If it had been any other vampire, and not the woman he'd just met, he would have killed them and taken the scroll. But something about her wouldn't allow him to harm her.

So he steeled himself and agreed to escort her to her family's home. She wanted to return to the vampires that would be, doubtlessly, exhilarated to see that she still had the scroll.

He should have killed her. He should have taken the scroll. They'd faced gargoyles, which he hated, and even a dragon priest guarding the exit to the crypt. It would have been easy, so easy, to slip a knife in the back of her neck during the confusion.

Standing in Castle Volkihar, Serana's home, and speaking to the powerful vampire Lord Harkon, Aldric had felt apprehension close to what he experienced before facing Alduin. It had taken everything he had to force his heartbeat to remain calm as Serana's father transformed from a man into his vampire beast.

He was surrounded on all sides. Undead members of Harkon's court were everywhere. They feasted with wet, squishing, hungry noises on slowly dying men and women presented on the tables like suckling pigs.

Harkon offered to turn him, to bite him and wash away his wolf blood and remake him as a vampire. Turning the man down, Aldric had been certain he wasn't going to make it out of the castle alive.

But, remarkably, he had. He knew he should have returned to Isran with news of what he'd learned, but he had ignored that plan and traveled straight to Riften.

Aldric had no idea if Harkon had anything to do with the attacks on Rory's family. He needed to get back to the city to discuss it with her, however, and figure out their next plan.

His alarm had slowly given way to sheer exhaustion the closer he got. This new situation with Serana and the scroll felt vast, like he could sense it was an ordeal that would take months of energy and tireless dedication to control.

Iona turned to him, surprised, when he opened Honeyside. "I wasn't expecting you for a while longer," she said.

He lowered his greatsword into her waiting hands. "Why's that?"

"Rory made it sound like you wouldn't be back for much longer than five days." The housecarl shrugged.

"Is she here?"

Iona shook her head. "No. She spent a night here, and then left suddenly the next day. I tidied up all the mail she left scattered on the bed."

He smiled. That sounded like her. "Thank you, Iona."

"It's my pleasure…my Thane," she answered, her voice turning up in a wry smirk at the end.

"Ysmir's beard, Rory," he muttered when he found the bundle of mail.

Iona hadn't mentioned that she'd almost destroyed it all. Every single piece of correspondence was opened and crumpled, even the ones that had been sealed. Many papers were ripped. He frowned as he flipped through it all. Had she been angry about something?

The only letter that was untouched was a small piece of paper folded once and sealed with his own green wax. He recognized the imprint of one of his rings pressed into the seal.

Confused, he cracked it open and unfolded the letter.

* * *

_Aldric, _

_Nightingale Hall has been destroyed. It was attacked by vampires only a few days before we arrived. Lilly, Brynjolf, and Karliah are safe. I'll recount the message Brynjolf left with a city guard before they fled The Rift._

* * *

Below, she copied what the thief must have written after escaping the Hall. He read it, the pulse in his throat fluttering like a trapped bird, before reading the rest of her letter.

* * *

_I couldn't wait for you to return. I wasn't sure how long you'd be gone. I left the day after we parted at the city. I need someone strong to travel with me while I try to track down Brynjolf and Karliah—I can't wait for them to contact me first. I don't know who else to go to, so I'm going back to Snowpoint to get Amon. Other than you, he's the strongest wolf I know._

_I'll write when we get a lead, and then we'll wait for you to meet up with us. Please stay safe and don't worry. _

_Rory_

* * *

Dimhollow had been very close, tantalizingly close, to Snowpoint. It enraged Aldric to know that he had been so near intercepting Rory and preventing her from taking off like this.

It seemed to him that there was very little logic in the decision she'd made. Any scent trail that Brynjolf and Karliah had left was, by now, dead and cold. Rory was surely as clueless as he was when it came to trying to predict where Brynjolf and Karliah might go. But then, logic was likely not a part of Rory's decisions right now. Lilly was in danger, and that's all she would be able to think about.

Irrational jealousy clouded his thoughts. After everything he'd talked about with Rory concerning Amon, she was going right back to pluck him from Snowpoint. She was going to travel with him, hunt with him, sleep with him at night…

A muscle in his jaw twitched when he wondered if she would cuddle to Amon at night the way she did with him. It seemed to be a subconscious need with her. After all, she'd done it with him almost right away after leaving Falkreath.

The small part of his brain that was managing clear thought quickly shut that idea down. Rory trusted him, and he was sure she felt something for him in her own way.

He crumpled her letter in his fist and let it fall to the bed. There was nothing he could do now but wait for Rory's word, whenever that would come.

He was trapped in Riften.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: **Oh, gurl.

* * *

**Chapter 36**

Rory left Riften in a hired carriage. When that wasn't fast enough, she stole a horse on the outskirts of Windhelm and rode hard for Snowpoint. When the horse began to tire, she abandoned it and ran as fast as she could without making herself sick.

She experienced a mixture of fear and determination as she traveled. Lilly had escaped with her life, but she was now on the run with Brynjolf and Karliah. More than one time in her life, she'd been in the same situation, and she knew how dangerous that could be. She wasn't going to sit by and do nothing, just hoping that they were all right.

Rory couldn't physically track the group, but she was going to do her best to attempt to intercept them. _How_ she was going to do that, she wasn't sure, but she was going to try.

She reached Snowpoint less than four full days after exiting The Rift. Barely pausing to force herself to drink water, she marched straight up to Kyrr's cabin.

The pack leader stood in the hall, talking to Lejla. When he saw Rory stomping up to him, his mouth fell slack and his eyes showed disbelief.

"Rory?" He looked behind her. "Where is Aldric? Is something wrong?"

"Where's Amon?" she demanded.

"I…Amon is outside, with his brother. Has something happened?" The alpha called after her when she turned on her heel. "Rory!"

She found the man she was looking for. Amon was climbing up the mountainside, attracted by the yells from inside the cabin. Other pack members were starting to drift closer as well. Seraph followed his brother, frowning.

"Back so soon?" Amon asked her, smirking.

She put her hands on her hips. "I came for you. I need someone at my back."

The amusement on his face dissolved. "What happened to Aldric?"

"He's away. I don't know when he'll be back, and I couldn't wait for him. Will you leave with me or not?"

"He cannot!" Kyrr yelled from behind her.

"Yes," Amon said at nearly the same time. Beside him, Seraph looked shocked and gaped at his brother.

"No!" Kyrr walked between them and rounded on Rory. "I will not allow Amon to leave the pack. He is the strongest among us, and I have need of him to protect my people."

"I'm sorry to take him from you, Kyrr," Rory apologized. "Something has happened to my sister. She was nearly killed a week ago. I need to take Amon with me to find her."

His eyes were hot with anger. "Where is Aldric?"

"Aldric is visiting Fort Dawnguard, the way I told you he would." She spread her hands plaintively. "I need Amon."

"You cannot have him," Kyrr snarled.

Rory didn't want it to come to this, but she had prepared for it nevertheless. She looked past him to Amon. "Will you come with me?"

He answered immediately. "Yes."

"_NO!_" Kyrr roared, turning to face the other wolf. "Have you forgotten yourself, Amon? I am your alpha, and my word is law! You will not leave with this woman!"

It was as if Amon didn't even see Kyrr. His face never lost its steady, calm expression as he stared into Rory's eyes. "I am ready to leave when you are."

Feeling terrible, Rory stepped around Kyrr and began to walk down the mountainside. The other pack members were huddled in groups together, watching the situation unfold with unease. Apprehension was plain on their faces.

Her drive to protect Lilly and make sure she was safe was stronger than anything else she felt at the moment, however—stronger even than the wish to keep Snowpoint safe. She caught Liana's small, pale face peeking at her from between two tents, and she looked away.

Amon started to follow her, and Rory turned when she heard Seraph call out. "Brother! Do not do this. _Think_," he pleaded. "Use your mind. She has clouded it. Do not do this."

"Have you bewitched Amon the same way your father bewitched your mother?" Kyrr yelled. "Have you taken his free will?"

"Amon believes this is his opportunity to edge out Aldric from the competition to become her mate," Seraph announced, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Rory ignored both of them. Amon did the same, and moved toward her. A hand appeared on Amon's bare shoulder, wrenching him to face Kyrr.

It was Seraph. His face was full of anxiety, and another emotion Rory couldn't identify. "Amon!" he snapped.

Amon roughly shrugged his brother's hand away from him. "Let me go, Seraph!"

Seraph made another grab for Amon's shoulder, harder this time, trying to force him to stay. Amon violently slapped Seraph's arm away, and his fist slammed into his brother's jaw.

The healer fell to the ground, his hand held to his face. He looked up at Amon, shocked, and Rory saw that Kyrr held the same expression. Everyone in the camp watched Amon warily.

"What has happened to you, my friend?" Kyrr whispered.

"Living with the pack has been enjoyable for me," Amon said, "but I am tired of being controlled by you, Kyrr."

"If you leave us now, you can never come back." The alpha stared at him. "I will banish you. The same goes for you, Rory. You will be banished the same way your mother was. History is repeating itself, it seems."

Amon shook his head, his dark hair swinging against his back. "I don't care." And then he laughed.

"Amon!" Seraph exclaimed, still on the ground.

Kyrr pointed to a younger man standing next to him. "Fetch Amon's belongings from his quarters within. Bring it outside, everything." He stared Amon down as he spoke.

Noiselessly, everyone waited for several moments that felt like an hour. Finally, the man emerged from inside, his arms full of various items. A woman followed him, holding Amon's shield and sword.

Kyrr directed the two pack members to dump everything on the ground. Amon walked forward and picked up his weapon and shield, seeming for all the world that it was just another day. Not a hint of distress entered his face, and for the first time Rory started to think she had made a rather large mistake.

Seraph watched her, and she was surprise to see compassion and sympathy on his face. Somehow, he understood that something was very wrong. He would have been well within his rights to hate her—after all, he might never see his brother again thanks to what she was doing.

"Let's go, Amon," she said softly, touching his elbow.

He broke the stare he'd been sharing with Kyrr, and turned to follow her. The trip out of the camp was marked with dead silence. Every pack member stared at them, their faces still and accusing.

Kaspar was the only one that spoke to them. He ran out of the watchtower as they passed it. "What are you doing? This is not the kind of person you are, Rory."

She fixed her eyes on the terrain ahead, hating the hard cast to her words as she answered him. "This is exactly the kind of person I am, Kaspar. I'm not good the same way Aldric is."

"Need, take, have." Amon's deep voice sounded behind her. "She is a true wolf, Kaspar."

Rory's jaw tightened. She left the scout standing forlornly behind them, watching helplessly as they walked away.

* * *

Traveling with Amon was a nightmare. To avoid the problem of his desire to sleep next to her the same way Aldric did, Rory had them sleep in shifts under the guise of keeping up a watch.

If they had actually needed to keep watch, they would have been killed numerous times over during Amon's shifts, because all he did was watch Rory. She slept restlessly, unable to relax under his gaze. No matter how far away she moved her bedroll away from him at night, he was right next to her when she woke.

Since they had only the one bedroll, they both occupied it. Waking up covered in Amon's scent, and smelling herself on him, was faintly unpleasant. She missed Aldric more and more with each passing hour.

"Are you ever going to tell me what we're doing?" he asked one morning. "Or is this merely your excuse to get me all to yourself?"

She ignored the teasing lilt in his voice. "I left my little sister with people Aldric trusted before we came to the pack. The same vampires that attacked Snowpoint found out where she was and tried to kill her."

He sobered. "What exactly do you aim to do with me?"

"I need your help. We're going to try to find Aldric's friends and my sister. They're on the run."

Amon's face was unreadable. "You'd have done better taking Kaspar with you instead of me. He is a scout and a tracker. He's nearly as fast as you are, though he doesn't have your stamina."

"I might agree with you there, but Kaspar can't handle himself if it came down to a fight," she pointed out. "Not the way you can."

He seemed pleased that she had acknowledged his prowess. "Who do you expect to fight? Surely not the friends of Aldric you trusted?"

"No." She frowned at him. "There's a good chance they're being pursued by the same vampires that attacked their stronghold. They don't give up easily."

"They could be anywhere in Skyrim," he said flatly.

"I am aware of that. Surely you can understand that staying in one place, just waiting to hear word, is impossible."

He grinned then. "You are as stubborn as I am."

She didn't respond to that, eating her breakfast. Amon had killed an entire elk the night before and they had more than enough meat available. The rest of the carcass, however, was unusable. She left it in the woods for the sabercats, annoyed that so much of it had gone to waste. Rory suspected Amon had brought down the bull to prove that he could provide game, should they be mated, which was almost laughable in its stupidity.

After a while, they packed up their tiny site and left. Amon kept his remarks to himself after that, for which she was grateful. She didn't feel like she had energy to spare dealing with his boundary issues.

* * *

The past few days had been fruitless. They had traveled to Rorikstead and questioned anyone on whether they'd seen Brynjolf or Karliah. Then from there, she had cut through Falkreath—Aldric had told her about the Twilight Sepulcher.

She'd been vaguely concerned about trying to enter the Sepulcher, not knowing what she would face inside, but she ended up not needing to. Only animals had passed near the structure in weeks; there was no trace of human activity, not even old footprints.

After her emotions had begun to clear, she had realized the severity of her mistake by taking Amon with her. Before going to Snowpoint, she had been seized with the powerful and delusional thought that she would be able to find Brynjolf, Karliah, and Lilly if she just tried hard enough. The sheer size of the land quickly squashed that, however. She had not felt stupider in decades.

Now Amon was stuck with her. Kyrr had banished him, and if Amon tried to return to the pack, he would kill him. She held doubts about that—part of her didn't believe Kyrr would have it in him to do it. He was more likely to accept him again after some negotiation. But she hesitated to send Amon back in case she was wrong. Either Kyrr or Amon would die if the pack leader held to his words after all.

Rory decided to travel to Whiterun after all. They were nearby, and she would feel brainless if the Nightingales had visited there without her knowledge. She could send word to Aldric, and she hoped that with his presence, he could soothe Kyrr and have the alpha take his second back.

On their way out of the Pale and into Whiterun Hold, they had a strange encounter. Close to a farm, Rory spotted a wagon on the side of the road with a broken wheel. The wagon held a very large wooden box in the cargo area, and against it leaned a man dressed in what could only be a jester's outfit.

Rory had never seen anything like the man. Bells jingled on the drooping ends of his hat, and his shoes were pointed upward at the toe, almost like a child's doll. He mumbled and fumed to himself as they drew nearer, his high-pitched voice furious. A loud cackle burst out of him, startling her.

Amon had been about to ask if he needed assistance, and she grabbed him by the forearm, leading him well away from the strange man. He looked at her, wordlessly questioning, and she shook her head. She could smell old death on the jester, like he had been touching corpses recently.

"Were you afraid of him?" Amon asked once they were far away from the odd man.

"No. Something's not right about him, though. He looks harmless enough, but…I can't explain it. Something in his eyes," she said, looking over her shoulder.

He laughed. "Very well."

When they reached Whiterun, Rory left Amon outside while she entered The Bannered Mare, looking for a courier. As luck would have it, one was inside eating his supper. She gave him a letter for Aldric in Riften, keeping her word that she would tell him where she was.

Then she considered if Amon would listen to her if she told him to sleep here, while she went on to Jorrvaskr. Looking at his face as she closed the inn's doors behind her, she sighed. Not likely.

"I've heard of the Companions," he said. "Legendary warriors, eh? Let's see."

Rory didn't like the tone in his voice, or the look on his face. It occurred to her that he would feel challenged by the skills of the Companions, and that it might be even worse when he discovered the Circle was comprised of werewolves.

Swearing in her head, she watched him swagger past her into the building.

* * *

Aela watched Amon eat at the long table in front of the fire inside Jorrvaskr. "You are sure our Harbinger will return soon?"

Rory nodded again tiredly. "Yes. I've sent a courier to him just now. He should be here within a few days. You're sure no one has visited?"

The huntress looked at her. "Jorrvaskr always has its share of visitors eager to prove their worth and join the Companions, or to challenge us. But no, I have not seen anyone fitting the description you provided."

"What about any of the others?"

She shook her head. "They would have mentioned it to me. And I would have recognized Lilly's scent anywhere around the building if she had been here. She shares your unique smell. It is not easy to forget."

"Thank you, Aela. If it's not too much trouble, could I sleep here tonight?"

Aela smiled. "Of course. I've already sent Tilma to prepare Aldric's quarters."

"And Amon? Is he welcome here?"

The other woman looked over at him. She watched Njada snipe at Amon; whatever he said back to her shut her right up. "He could sleep with the whelps in the common quarters."

* * *

Sweating in the heat reflected from the cobblestones in the training yard, Rory dodged her opponent's next blow. She lashed out with one of her swords, and it was swiftly met in midair by the steel of her target's greatsword.

Farkas had good-naturedly goaded her into sparring with him. It was a friendly contest, and not a serious one, so she hadn't been using her full strength or speed. However, she'd had to quickly reconsider once she engaged the Companion.

"I've been practicing," he grinned, his teeth very white against the darkness of his stubble and the old war paint on his face. "Aela has been improving my speed."

"I can see that," she replied breathlessly, moving backward.

Farkas had removed his heavy steel breastplate and was stripped to the waist, his bare upper body slick with sweat of his own. He was bigger and more muscular than even Aldric. Rory was envious that he could remove his armor in the midday heat.

He came at her again. Wanting a break, she put on a burst of speed and knocked his blade aside with her left sword. He stumbled, and she spun and brought her right blade to rest against the side of his neck.

Farkas smiled again. "You win this round," he admitted, "but I want a rematch."

She laughed, still trying to catch her breath. "You're relentless!"

A voice called out from the shady porch. "Mind if I join?"

Rory frowned at Amon. "No, I've had enough for now."

"I was not talking to you, Rory." He stared past her at Farkas.

The other man raised his brows, looking only briefly at Rory. "I suppose. I'm not too tired yet."

Rory's instincts were triggered as Amon descended the steps into the yard, his shield already strapped to his arm. She didn't like the set of his mouth, or the way that he was studiously avoiding looking at her as he passed.

Farkas was, without a doubt, the largest and strongest of all the Companions. He, like Aela and Vilkas, was dominant, but it was a passive sort of dominance. He had a kind spirit, and it was easy to see. He reminded her faintly of Maksim—powerful, but not gripped by the need to prove it to others.

As she watched Amon take his position in the yard across from Farkas, she wondered if that mattered to him at all. She had overestimated his tolerance before, and she was now wondering if it was wise to assume that Amon wouldn't feel the need to challenge the other man.

The two men began to spar. Amon had sunk into a low crouch, his shield raised. Farkas circled him for a moment, and then swept his greatsword horizontally toward Amon's ribs.

The shield was instantly there to block the blow, and then back into its position in front of Amon. Farkas tried another blow, and that too was blocked. Amon was not taking the offensive at all, merely shutting down each of Farkas's swings. Rory narrowed her eyes; that was unlike him.

After a short while, it was clear that Farkas was growing frustrated with the constant blocking. Grunting with effort, he drove his sword over his head, aiming to stumble Amon.

Amon was too quick for that, however. He lunged forward with his shield and parried the blow, knocking aside the sword. He continued the motion, however, and slammed his shield into Farkas's chest.

Farkas lost his footing at the brutal strike, and he drew his brows together as he frowned at Amon. Rory shared his quiet irritation. That was out of line for a friendly sparring match.

Amon's style changed after that. He not only blocked every one of Farkas's blows, he took the effort to do it aggressively. Rory could see that Farkas's knuckles were reddened, some of them even starting to bleed. Amon was aiming at his hands, which was a low thing to do, seeing as how Farkas wore no protective gauntlets.

She wanted to interfere and call off the match. Amon was taking it too personally. However, unless someone acquiesced or lost, both of them were likely to ignore her.

Suddenly, Amon's shield darted out again, and Rory could hear a crack from where she stood. Farkas immediately dropped his greatsword, shaking out his right hand with a curse.

Amon ignored the fact that Farkas was now disarmed, and hit him again with his shield. His sword flashed in the light as he struck at Farkas's head, and for a heart-stopping moment, Rory thought he had taken his eye.

Farkas fell to the ground, and she ran to his side, hovering over him. Gently, she pulled his hand away from the left side of his face. The tip of Amon's sword had slashed an ugly gash along Farkas's cheekbone. Dark blood began to well from the wound, and she guided his hand back over it.

The Companion looked up at her, his eyes darkened with confusion and anger. "Sit still, Farkas. It's my responsibility to handle this."

She rounded on Amon, who was standing well away from the two of them. He had dropped his sword and shield, clearly expecting that Farkas would charge him.

"Not that legendary after all, it would seem," he said to her, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

She picked up his shield, holding it like a plate in her hands. He reached his arms out, thinking she was handing it to him, and she rammed the edge of it hard into his gut. All his breath rushed out of him, and he grunted as he dropped to the ground, one arm curled around his stomach.

"I think you cracked a rib," he wheezed, writhing in pain.

"Are you a child, Amon? Are you incapable of controlling yourself?" she snarled down at him. Her entire leg vibrated with the urge to kick him in the face while he was down. "You attack another of my friends again, and you'll face me."

When she looked up, she saw that Farkas had made it to the porch and was standing next to his brother. Vilkas was staring down at her, face impassive. She wasn't sure how much of it he'd seen.

Blood coated Farkas's face, and had rolled down his neck and chest. She left Amon on the ground to recover his breath, and followed the twins inside to help Farkas care for his injury.

Aldric couldn't get to Whiterun fast enough.


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N:** I think I'm starting a pattern here...Smut Friday!

* * *

**Chapter 37**

Aldric opened the doors of Jorrvaskr slowly and calmly, which was quite a feat for him. In his mind, the scene of his booted foot kicking the doors down was playing as he politely shut them behind him.

The hour was rather late; he'd ridden a borrowed horse hard from Riften and managed to make it to Whiterun in two days by cutting through the mountain pass on the southern side of the Throat of the World. The mead hall was empty, save for Aela. What she was doing up, he had no idea.

"Harbinger," she greeted him. Her smile quickly faded when she saw his barely controlled anger.

"Where are they?" he asked her tersely. Her eyes flickered. "Don't try to lie to me, Aela."

"I was not about to," she retorted. "Rory is asleep for the night in your quarters."

"And Amon?"

She paused, and for a moment he feared she was going to tell him he was in there with Rory. "He sleeps in the common area with Athis and the others."

"Thank you." He pushed past her and made for the stairs.

"Aldric." Her voice stopped him.

He turned to look at her, one hand on the door to the living quarters below Jorrvaskr. "Yes?"

"She…is regretful. She knows she made a mistake by bringing that cur here."

Aldric was both unsurprised and troubled to hear Aela refer to Amon that way. "What has happened?"

"I will let her inform you of that," the huntress said, crossing her slim arms. "I am glad you are here now, however."

Concern replacing his fury, he crossed the hall within to the area where some of the Companions slept. Inside, he saw that Athis, Ria, Njada, and Torvar were sleeping soundly inside. Close to the door, Amon was as well, resting on his back.

He was dressed in his customary leather trousers with no clothing on his upper body. A mottled bruise crossed from one side of his waist to another just above his navel. The mark was not small, and judging by the color, it spoke to deep muscle damage. He had very obviously crossed someone, and Aldric wondered which of the Companions had retaliated.

He backed out silently before Amon could wake. He did not want to deal with him right now, not in the slightest.

The outer doors to his quarters were locked. Face darkening at the implications of that, he pulled out his key. He was even more alarmed to see that the other set of doors into the bedroom were also locked.

He opened the doors to see Rory kneeling on the bed, holding one of her ebony swords in hand. Her face went through an impressive display of emotion, one after the other, as he stood there and stared at her.

She settled on uncertainty, and slowly lowered the sword. "Hello."

He glowered at her. "Why were the doors locked?"

"There's been some trouble with Amon since I've brought him here," she replied, sheathing the sword and placing it on the floor. "I don't want to be surprised while I sleep."

"Surprised how?" he growled. "What kind of trouble?"

Upon hearing his wolf, she seemed to bristle a bit. "He's unpredictable. More so than I thought. I'm not sure what he's capable of, but I am not taking any chances."

"You're afraid that he'll try to sneak in here during the night and force himself on you?" Ugly thoughts rushed through his head.

"Not necessarily. The idea has crossed my mind that he would think it amusing to come in and try to convince me to engage in that willingly." She sounded annoyed. "I am not afraid of him, Aldric. I haven't slept well and what little I can get, I would like to be uninterrupted by idiocy."

"What kind of trouble has there been with him?" he insisted. "Aela indicated things were unwell."

"The first day we arrived here, Farkas wanted to spar with me," she told him. "Amon was watching, and he must have felt some kind of competition with him. He occupied Farkas after I was finished, and he fought dirty. Amon bashed him with his shield and cut up his face when he was unarmed."

Rage simmered in Aldric's mind. "What else?"

"He's been harassing Ria." Rory was displaying anger of her own at that admission. "He's careful to make sure no one is close enough to hear what he says to her, but she's blushed so badly a few times I thought she would cry. That enrages Vilkas. I've had to put myself between them a few times."

"Anything else?"

"No. Not yet, anyhow. Surprisingly, he leaves almost everyone else alone. I was worried he would target Aela, but I think he can sense she'd stab him if he even sniffs in her direction," she replied.

"Fine. Then we can get to the other issue: what could have possibly been going through your mind when you took Amon from Snowpoint?"

She had the morals to look ashamed, turning away. "I don't know. I've asked myself that many times since I've done it."

"How did you get Kyrr to give him up?"

Rory dropped her head into her hands. "I didn't," she said, her words muffled.

"What does that mean?"

"Kyrr banished him. And me."

Aldric was shocked. "After he said that, you still wanted to take Amon?"

She frowned. "Aldric, I am sorry for what I've done. I was a different person at the moment. All I could think about was finding Lilly. I was angry, I was afraid."

"And how did that turn out for you?" he snapped. "We have no leads. They could be anywhere."

"I know that!" She rolled off the bed to stand. "I realized that not long after I left with him."

"That's not good enough for me!" he yelled.

"Why are you so angry?" She glared at him. "Is this because I was alone with Amon?"

"What if I had left you alone in a city, telling you I was leaving to do something with another person, and said to just sit and wait until I contacted you?" he pointed out. "How would you have felt?"

"I understand it was frustrating—" she started.

Aldric cut her off, his voice heated. "Frustrating!" He gave an angry laugh. "What if something had happened to you? What if you had died? I would have had no way of knowing where you were. I would have spent the rest of my life tearing Skyrim apart looking for you."

She blinked.

"Eight days, Rory! Eight days wondering if I'd ever see your face again!"

She still said nothing, looking at him like he had started speaking another language. Her unwillingness to engage him, to fight with him, took the energy out of him.

He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly tired. "I can tell by the look on your face that that didn't enter your mind once." He turned around to set his weapons down. "I need to sleep. We can talk about this in the morning.

Annoyed by the silence, he undressed. She moved aside for him when he walked to the bed, and he pulled the covers over himself. He'd have thought for sure that he wouldn't be able to rest, but blackness quickly overtook him.

* * *

He hadn't been asleep for long before he felt himself being jostled awake. It was pitch black in the bedroom, and he detected the faint smell of candle smoke in the air.

"Rory?" he mumbled. He was on his side, and her hand clutched at his bicep. She shook him some more, and he rolled onto his back. "What is it?"

"Are you awake?" she asked him.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I am now. What is it?"

In response, he sensed her hovering close to his head. He felt her warm breath on his neck as her hands found his jaw. Her lips met his, and he returned the kiss for a moment before pulling away.

"You woke me up for this?" he said, still upset from earlier.

"Yes," she answered, and kissed him again.

He pushed her away. "I'm not in the mood."

"I am."

She slung a leg over him and he felt her climb on top of him. She trailed her hands from his face, to his shoulders, down his arms, until she grabbed his wrists. He let her pull his hands up in the air, until he felt his fingers come into contact with soft skin. His breath hitched as she guided his hands up to cup her bare breasts. Her nipples were hard beneath his palms.

He groaned. That was a dirty trick. "No," he insisted.

"I missed you," she said. Her hands stroked his forearms. When she moved her arms away, he kept his hands where they were.

He hesitated, and then caressed her breasts. She squirmed against him with a soft sigh as he brushed his thumb across a nipple. "I missed you, too," he admitted gruffly.

"I want you to be inside me tonight," she murmured.

He froze in his actions. "Say that again?"

"I want you to be my mate," Rory clarified.

He wished there was a light, any light, in the room so that he could see her face. "Now?"

"I've been thinking about it for the past hour after you went to sleep." She ground her hips against him. "I realized tonight that you care about me to an extent that I hadn't before understood. I don't think I'll ever find another mate as devoted as you already are without being bonded to me. That means something."

Aldric didn't know what to say. "Now?" he repeated stupidly.

"You're strong," she whispered, kissing his chest, "and you're kind," a kiss to his neck, "and you're smart," her lips found the pulse in his throat, "and you drive me insane." She grazed her teeth across his skin. "I want you to belong to me, and only me."

His hand touched the back of her head, feeling her silky hair. "That means you'd also belong to me."

"Yes."

"And that we'd be bonded forever."

"Yes."

Aldric ran his hands along the taut muscles of her back until he found her backside. He dug his fingers into her, spread her cheeks apart, pushed her against his hardness. She inhaled sharply. "My feelings haven't changed, if you want to do this."

Her hair tickled his chest as she sat up. She grabbed his smallclothes with both hands and ripped them away from his body with a sound of tearing cloth. Her hand searched its way across his hips until it found his erection, and she stroked him.

He felt her start to lift up off him, holding him in one hand to guide him into her. "I want to take you underneath me," he rumbled.

She paused. "You can… if you can claim me."

Aldric rose his upper body off the bed, seizing her by the waist. He intended to roll her onto her back, but she fought him. Digging a knee into the bed, she braced herself and used his own momentum against him, shoving his shoulder. He lost his balance and ended up on his side.

Using brute strength, she pushed at his hip until he was flat again, and then straddled him. Aldric knew she was stronger than him, and that he had no hope of winning from this position. So he cheated.

He sat up again, nosing for her breast. When he found it, he drew her nipple into his mouth and flicked his tongue against it as he sucked. Rory's body jerked, and she let out an unsteady moan.

She was sly. While he worked at her breast, she slid her hips toward him. He took hold of her ass again and held her against him as he rose and tried to use his body weight to keep her on her back.

Rory growled. Her hips bucked against him as she fought to turn him over again.

He laughed. "Oh, that feels good, do that again."

She snarled at him, and he almost drew back, thinking she was sincerely angry. She sensed his hesitation and then he felt her tongue lick his neck.

He almost thought she'd given up, but one of her feet had found the floor, and she slipped out from underneath him. He fumbled for her, trying to catch her arm, but she eluded capture.

Aldric could hear her throaty laugh as she crept away from him in the dark. He strained his senses, forced to rely only on his hearing and smell. He thought he'd tracked her to the left, by the door, and then felt a rush of air at his right side.

He caught her before she could pounce on him. She wriggled out of his grasp, desperately muffling her shrieks of laughter, and tried to bound off the end of the bed again.

He threw his right arm around her, across her collarbone, pinning her back to his front as he securely grabbed her left shoulder. His other arm circled her waist, pressing her backside against him.

She writhed, and he tightened his hold, muscles flexing, until he heard her take a sharp breath. "So strong," she gasped.

Rory had bunched the blankets up underneath herself during her struggle, and she rested on top of them, matching his height as they knelt. He drifted his touch down her stomach until he reached between her legs. She pushed against his hand greedily.

"Spread your legs for me, Rory. Now."

She obeyed, shifting so that her knees were further apart.

Aldric kept his right arm tight to her in case she tried to escape again. With his other hand, he guided himself to her from behind. When she felt the head of him brush her entrance, she gasped again.

He pushed into her slowly. She was very wet, but still tight, so he had to work for it. He fought for every inch until he was fully sheathed inside of her. Feeling her heat around him almost undid him. He exhaled unevenly against her shoulder.

Aldric pulled himself out almost all the way, and then slid back inside her with a firm thrust. Rory cried out. He did it again and again, teasing her with the slow pace, until she was breathless and fidgety against him.

He tightened his arm around her again, feeling his muscles bunch with the strength he used. Any other woman would have been hurt or scared by his force, but it seemed only to incite her.

She began to move with him, matching the roll of his hips as he thrust into her. When he could move inside her easily, slipping in and out rapidly, he released his hold on her to grab both of her hips.

Rory fell forward to her hands and knees, widening her legs. The angle changed, and suddenly he could enter her much more deeply. He took advantage of it, and moved faster.

"Harder," she whimpered.

Aldric complied, and pounded himself into her like he was the hammer and she the nail. Their bodies came together again and again with an audible sound as he thrust into her.

He was getting close. She felt so good around him. Rory's voice rose and fell with sharp little moans as he took her.

"Aldric," she cried out.

He moved his hand along her spine until he found her hair, and he wound his fist in it. He forced her to kneel again using his grasp on her long tresses, and she moaned.

Aldric grabbed her jaw in his hand and turned her head to the side. She kissed him eagerly, fed at his mouth with lips and tongue and teeth. Frantically, he slid his hand down her front and found the most sensitive part of her with the pads of his fingers.

He had barely started to stroke the hard little pearl when a violent tremor rolled through her body. He groaned when he felt her tightening around him as she climaxed. He tried to hold on longer, but his body thought otherwise, and he joined her with a yell.

He didn't stop the motions of his fingers as they both came. As he thought she might, she let out an ear-splitting scream, like she was being pierced by a sword instead of him.

Aldric clapped a hand over her mouth, and he felt her sharp teeth sink into the meat of his palm. He swore and pulled his hand away, and she laughed before falling onto her hands and knees again. He slipped out of her and fell onto his back on the bed, his chest heaving.

He heard her rustling around in the dark, and then she crawled next to him. She placed a hand over his rapidly beating heart, and he could feel her soft pants coming against his skin as she snuggled to him.

After a while, when their breathing had slowed, he turned to his side and gathered her into his arms. She faced him instead of giving him her back, and tucked her face into his neck.

Aldric felt like he should say something, but before he could even discern what he was thinking and feeling, he noticed that Rory had fallen asleep.


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: **Morning sex!

* * *

**Chapter 38**

Rory woke up slowly, groggily, like she was dragging herself up through a mountain of stones to wakefulness. She'd slept very hard, apparently. The first thing she became aware of was a heavy arm draped across her waist.

The second thing she became aware of was a faint ache between her legs.

Her eyes flew open, and suddenly she remembered why she was experiencing that sensation. Aldric. He was a shade or two away from being too big for her.

For a long, terrible moment, panic and regret thrummed through her body. As he'd fallen asleep last night, she'd been gripped with a powerful feeling of…something. It wasn't love, though it was close. In that moment, she had wanted nothing more than to give Aldric the gift of her bond.

Her heart started to race. _Mistake_, her brain screamed. _You've made a mistake_.

But she could already feel the bond. Her connection to Aldric—the one she'd felt from the very first moment she'd met him—was stronger than ever. She felt she could almost literally sense his emotions and thoughts if only she concentrated hard enough.

He murmured in his sleep and shifted closer to her, his chest pressing against her back. The physical touch sent a powerful sensation of pleasure and rightness through her. Part of her reveled in it, and the other part struggled against it.

The bond began to overwhelm the part of her mind that fought for its independence. Her wolf was happy as well, sleepy and contented. Her breathing evened out as she settled herself.

Rory turned gently to face Aldric. He slept on his side, one arm stretched underneath his pillow. His face was very peaceful. She traced his features with her eyes, as she'd done so many times while he was asleep. It was one of her favorite things to do, and now it was even better because she knew he was hers forever.

The forever part still sent an unpleasant tingle through her stomach, but it was also comforting. The bond between mates ensured that one leaving the other would be too painful to bear. He wouldn't be able to abandon her, but she couldn't run away from him, either.

She wondered how he would react when he woke. Then a thought crept into Rory's head. The Circle would be able to sense the new connection…and so would Amon.

Like he could sense her distress, Aldric's eyes opened. He saw her looking back at him, and once their eyes met her heart skipped a beat. He stared back at her for a moment.

Then a wide grin spread across his face. "Did that really happen last night or was that the best dream I've ever had?"

She couldn't help but smile back at him. "Look at your hand."

He pulled his hand up to his face and frowned a little at the perfect imprint of her teeth on his palm. "Ouch."

She kissed the mark. "I didn't mean to bite you."

He laughed. "Yes, you did. Not one of your bites has ever been an accident."

"How do you feel?" she asked him.

He rolled onto his back and stretched his arms and legs out, groaning when some of his joints cracked. "I feel…very good."

"So do I," she admitted.

Suddenly, he reached over and seized her. She gasped when he pulled her on top of him to sit astride his hips. Rory could feel that he was hard already.

"We have to start the day," she reminded him.

"I agree," he said between kisses. "We can start it with this."

She moaned against his mouth. He was far too good at making love to her. She wasn't sure if it was the new bond or just his skill, but the touch of his hands, lips, and tongue soon had her in a frenzy.

She rocked back against him, and like her body had done this a thousand times with his already, he slid into her without needing any assistance from her hands. Rory hissed at the gentle ache of feeling him stretch her again.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked her, looking up at her with concern in his pale eyes.

She answered him by straightening up. At first, she lifted herself up and down, sliding along the length of him. When she started to pant, she rolled her hips back and forth.

Aldric's hands found her waist, and he gripped her tightly while he started to thrust up, into her. He frowned in concentration, and a light sheen of sweat coated his body. Rory admired him in between waves of pleasure. He was truly an amazing specimen of manhood.

He drove all conscious thought from her when he suddenly rose up. She blinked as he settled her on her back, and then he started pumping into her again.

She settled her hands on his powerful shoulders, and then cupped his face. He lowered to her and kissed her, the tip of his tongue tracing her lower lip. When he pulled back to look at her, his pace slowed from the hard and fast rhythm he'd set into something gentler.

Slowly, he eased her over the edge. Her climax was not the same powerful one from the night before that felt like it was tearing her apart—this one was softer, more quiet, but just as good.

She trembled against him, murmuring into his ear to encourage him as he approached his own peak. His face was beautiful and amazing when he lost himself inside of her. His brows were drawn together, his teeth bared in a silent shout. The look in his eyes was something similar to pain in its wild desperation.

Aldric moved a few more times, and then withdrew. He laid his head on her chest, and she stroked his hair, enjoying the feel of his weight on top of her.

After a few moments, he raised his head and propped his chin on her breast, giving her a lazy smile. "No one would bother us if we never come out of this room today."

Rory wasn't so sure about that. She knew of at least one person who would likely come sniffing around, and it put a damper on her glow. "I need food. And a bath. Or at least a damp cloth," she hinted.

He looked down and seemed to understand. "Ah. I'll get one."

She watched him putter around the room, completely naked, looking for a cloth. When he found one, he dipped it in the washbasin and wrung it out. Instead of giving it to her, he knelt between her legs and cleaned her slowly, methodically. After a moment, his motions started to get more sensual, and she started to squirm. When she saw that he was beginning to stiffen again, she laughed and rolled off the bed.

"I can see we _won't_ make it out of the bedroom today if you have anything to do with it," she observed, shaking out her trousers.

Aldric followed her, hugging her around the waist from behind. "Can you blame me?" he murmured in her ear, his breath tickling her. "For weeks, all we've been doing is fumbling around like a couple of teenagers sneaking around in a barn."

Rory stilled at the feeling of his bare skin against hers. Her eyes drifted closed and she stopped what she was doing. Encouraged by that, his mouth began working against the side of her neck. He twitched against her backside.

She pulled away suddenly. "I can't think when you're touching me," she breathed.

He chuckled and let her go. "I love that I affect you that way."

As she fastened the buckles on her armor, she thought about it. On one hand, it was exhilarating and hypnotic, and on the other hand, it was so new that it was unnerving. She didn't remember things being this way when she had bonded with Maksim.

Rory dithered at the doors to the hall. By now, Amon would surely be awake. She wasn't afraid of him, but she was afraid of his reaction. She felt that violence was unavoidable, and did not wish for anyone else to be caught in the blaze of his rage.

Either Aldric did not share her worries, or hadn't even thought of them, because he confidently strode past her into the hall. She followed him quickly, not wanting it to seem like she was hiding.

No one was around. They were the late risers of the day. She could hear muffled voices coming from upstairs, around the fire. Her heart started to beat faster with each step up the stairs.

Supremely unconcerned, Aldric took a seat next to Vilkas, where a plate was waiting for him. He began to spread soft goat cheese on a slice of freshly baked bread, ignoring the looks directed at him. Rory slowly walked closer to him, hesitating at the chair at his side. Amon was nowhere in sight.

Farkas snuffled behind her ear, rustling her hair, and she yipped in surprise. He pulled back, eyes shining with mirth. "You smell different."

"You both do," Vilkas commented.

Aela grinned slyly from the other end of the table. "Do you have news for us?"

Rory gripped the back of the chair until her knuckles whitened. "Later. Where is Amon?"

For the first time, Aldric faltered and turned his head to the side.

"He's in the training yard," Farkas offered. "Been there for hours, since the sky got light."

Somehow, Rory knew that he had heard or sensed what had happened last night. Her stomach tightened with anxiety.

"I want to get this over with," she whispered in Aldric's ear.

Without saying anything to her, he stood up from the table. "No matter what you hear, stay inside," he said to the rest of the table.

Njada and Athis exchanged a look.

"You are going to fight him?" Vilkas asked Aldric coolly.

"I'm going to try to avoid that."

"You should give him a lesson, Aldric." He gestured to Farkas with his chin. "Look at my brother."

Aldric turned around to where Farkas sat. The cut had been cleanly stitched by Tilma, but the wound looked nasty as it started to heal. Farkas had refused Rory's offer to heal it, saying he needed a new scar anyway.

"Gods, Farkas," Aldric muttered, shocked.

The man shrugged a massive shoulder. "Looks worse than it feels."

It wouldn't have been out of line if Aldric had ever fought with Amon at Snowpoint, though it would have irritated her. It was common for males and sometimes even females to challenge one another over a potential partner.

But because of his new, official status as her mate, Aldric had the given right to fight Amon today if he didn't handle the news well. Even if Amon didn't raise a hand to him, Aldric would be allowed to respond to aggression.

Having a male fight another male over her was never something that impressed Rory. Some women enjoyed it, feeling it showed a protectiveness that their men had for them, but it had always struck Rory as an inherently selfish reaction. Most men did not fight to 'protect honor'—they fought because they were personally insulted.

Though Aldric was Dragonborn, and a werewolf, he was still a man with the patience of only a man. She didn't expect him to swallow every attack to his pride. Everyone had a limit. There would be a point at which it would be unfair to expect him to simply turn aside.

So when he opened the doors to the training yard and stepped out, she took a deep breath and prepared herself.

Amon was hacking and slashing at one of the practice dummies against the wall. He had long ago stripped it of the stuffed sackcloth covering it, and the wooden figurine was simply a mass of misshapen wood now. Splinters flew as he came at it with his sword. Sweat poured down his bare back and matted his hair to his head as he cursed at the dummy.

At the sound of the doors closing behind them, he turned around. His eyes settled on Rory. "Congratulations."

She didn't say anything.

Aldric answered with, "Thank you."

The shield and sword flew to the ground with a sudden clatter, and Rory flinched. Amon strode up onto the porch, ignoring Aldric completely. "I never had a chance, did I?"

"I told you that you didn't, the night you went with me to Folgunthur," she reminded him, keeping her calm. "You didn't listen to me."

"And coming to Snowpoint, alone, to get me?" he said. His voice unnerved her; it was deadly smooth and low.

Rory fought the urge to look away. "I needed a strong fighter with me. Aldric was away."

"I thought that was an excuse. I thought that you required time to allow yourself to be with me, that I needed to convince you." He stared into her eyes.

This time, she did look away. She had suspected he felt that way, and she hadn't made him think otherwise.

He grabbed her by the jaw and wrenched her head forward. "Look at me!" he snarled.

She knocked his arm aside with her own forearm, and struck him in the chest with the flat of her other hand. He stumbled away from her, momentarily stunned, and Aldric stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Amon.

"If you want to fight me, then fight me," Aldric told him. "You will not touch her again."

For a second, Rory thought Amon was going to walk away. He turned his body away from Aldric, but then whirled with his arm raised. Aldric was ready for that.

He dodged the punch, and twisted to the side as he put his shoulder into a blow to Amon's jaw. The other man reeled, and staggered into the open area of the training yard.

Blood was gathered at the corner of his mouth. He licked at it while he looked up at Aldric. "I will kill you."

"You will try," Aldric corrected him.

"Bastard," Amon seethed. Rory could feel the rage pouring from him. Her beast stirred within her, intrigued.

He crouched as Aldric entered the yard and stood in front of him. There was a glint of metal in the sunlight as his hand dipped down to his boot, and Rory's heart lurched.

Amon lunged at him with a primal scream, a dwarven dagger in his hand. Aldric knocked his hand away, and countered with another strike to Amon's face. Shaking his head, Amon recovered and slashed at Aldric again.

The tip of the dagger cut through Aldric's sleeve, and Rory could tell by his sudden intake of breath that it had cut his flesh as well. He backed away from Amon, regaining his footing, and Amon circled him.

He changed the grip of the blade so that his thumb rested on the end of the hilt, the knife pointing away from his hand. Aldric's face was calm and collected as he watched the enraged werewolf.

Amon struck, lightning-fast, and his knee drove into Aldric's torso. Aldric was unable to keep himself from bending forward with the force of the blow, and Amon raised the dagger in the air, trying to bring it down between Aldric's shoulder blades.

Aldric's hand was suddenly around Amon's wrist. Amon's face flickered in surprise, and he let out a strangled cry of pain as Aldric's hand tightened. The dagger clanged as it dropped from his hand onto the ground.

Amon was forced to walk backward as Aldric pressed forward, cowed by the painful grip of Aldric's hand. He raised his left hand in an attempt to strike Aldric again, but he grabbed that wrist as well.

"You disappoint me, Amon," Aldric said.

Aldric headbutted him, and the crack of the blow made Rory jump. Amon crumpled to the ground, blood rushing down his face from his nose. He stared up at Aldric.

"You don't deserve her," he spat. Flecks of blood flew from his lips.

Aldric stared down at him. "She made her choice. You lost. Take it in stride like a man, Amon."

He looked past Aldric at Rory again. "I can return to Snowpoint—Seraph will convince Kyrr to accept me again. This is not the first time I have disobeyed him. But you had no way of knowing that. You could have ruined my life."

Rory felt two spots of heat bloom in her cheeks. "You're grown, Amon. You make your own choices."

He laughed bitterly, and spat blood onto the ground. "You make it sound as if you had no influence over me—as if you didn't know why I came so eagerly to you."

"Think what you want."

Amon pulled himself to his feet, picking up his shield and his sword. He looked levelly at her and said, "You are much more cunning than I had figured, Rory. At your core, you are as self-serving and cold as you think I am."

His words felt like a slap. When she didn't respond, a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. He knew that he'd affected her. He walked away from Jorrvaskr and into the city, covered in his own blood but looking like he'd had the happiest day of his life. It was a frightening sight.

Aldric came to her, stroking her hair. "Do not let him get inside your head, Rory."

Upset, she pulled away from him. "He's right."

He frowned. "No, he's not."

"Yes, he is, Aldric." She turned to face him. "I am a selfish person. I did know what I was doing when I took him from Snowpoint. When it comes down to it, I care only about Lilly and myself. Everyone else is expendable."

He took her at her word and watched her for a moment, his face somber. "And me? Am I expendable?"

She pressed her lips together, stifling a yell of frustration. "No, you are not expendable to me. Not anymore. Not after last night. Can't you feel the bond?"

His faced relaxed minutely, but she could sense his relief. "Yes, I can feel it. Do you want to know why Amon bothered me so much from the first instant I met him?"

Rory scrubbed at her face, trying to hide the tears that had escaped. "Because you wanted me, too."

"Besides that," he dismissed.

"Then no, I don't know why he bothered you so much. I figured you felt competition with him."

"I did at first, but Amon quickly became exactly the kind of person that I could hate. I suspect he has a talent for that, and that many people feel that way about him," Aldric mused, "but hatred is rare for me. I hated Amon because he reminded me of myself."

She frowned fiercely at him. "You are _nothing_ like Amon."

"I was." He looked at her, his eyes unreadable. "I was very much like Amon. I fought brutally and dishonorably, I used people, I stole and lied and cruelly hacked my way through life with little care for others. Ask Brynjolf. He recruited me before he knew the kind of person I was, and when he began to realize the scope of my character, he stayed away from me for months, disappointed in me."

"Brynjolf is one of your closest friends," she pointed out, surprised. She never would have guessed that he'd felt that way about Aldric. "What changed?"

"Do you remember anything I told you about meeting Paarthurnax, and what happened after Sovngarde?" he asked her curiously, half-teasing.

"Of course I do."

"That's what changed me. I became a different man. If you had met me only a few years ago, you would have been just as disgusted with me as you are with Amon. That is something that scares me," he admitted. "Fate seems so fragile sometimes. By just a flap of a moth's wings, I could have lost you permanently."

He cupped her face in his hands, gently, like he was holding something delicate and precious.

Rory found it very hard to believe that she could have come across Aldric as he was before and not have felt drawn to him. It was impossible to imagine him as a man like Amon. The good she felt in him seemed too strong to be so new.

She also felt a sense of recognition regarding what he said. Not for the first time, she thought back on their first meeting. She had a conversation with him, she asked for his help, and she invited him to her home—let a complete stranger in, where Lilly was. Rory didn't believe in foolish things like destiny, but she had often wondered exactly why she had behaved that way, in that moment.

He lowered his head to her and kissed her, slowly at first. It grew into something more urgent, more powerful, and more heartbreaking. For the first time, she sensed in him a great sadness.

She broke the kiss and touched her forehead to his. He closed his eyes, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Rory hoped that he felt what she could not find the words to say.


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N:** Bit of a shorty for today.

* * *

**Chapter 39**

They'd spent a week longer in Whiterun. Aldric had informed Rory of his experiences with the Dawnguard. Rory had been silent and angry when he got to the part about discovering Serana. She had pointed out that she had never met a vampire she could trust, especially a Volkihar one, and he had no solid reasoning to give her against that.

"I don't know what else we can do now, besides take what you found to the Dawnguard," he said.

Rory lounged on the bed in Honeyside, watching him walk around the room. He was partially dressed, in only his pants, and she was in her underclothes.

"You think Isran will be interested in investigating the Hall?" she asked, a distant quality to her voice like she wasn't paying attention.

"I don't see why he wouldn't," he answered. "But then again, I let Serana go with the scroll. That may anger him."

"Hmm."

"What do you think?" He turned to ask her.

Just like a teenaged boy caught gazing at a woman, he watched her eyes snap up from his bare upper body a second too late. She blinked hard at him.

He laughed. "Have you been listening to a word I've said?"

Rory rolled onto her stomach, looking up at him innocently. "Yes."

"You're insatiable," he crowed, folding his arms.

It was a difficult statement for her to argue with. Since the night in Whiterun, Rory had hardly let him sleep when they were alone. She often woke him up during the night for more. He offered no complaint, naturally, but he had caught his reflection in a silver plate the day before, and noticed he had dark circles under his eyes.

Iona, fed up with the noise every night, had temporarily moved into the Bee and Barb. That had been slightly embarrassing, though he was mostly proud. The bond was clearly having some unprecedented side effects, and Aldric figured it would fade with time.

After a few moments, she spoke up again. "Aldric, do you have anything else from your past that you haven't told me?"

The question surprised him. "No. Nothing interesting, anyway. Why?"

Rory propped her chin on her crossed arms. "I feel like I haven't told you anything about my life before I met you."

It was mostly true, but he remained guarded as he looked down at her. "Do you want to tell me?"

"Yes, and no," she admitted. "Maksim knew things, to an extent. And he had the advantage of knowing my mother and father before they died. I don't want to talk about it, but it feels like I'm hiding things from you if I don't."

He moved to sit on the bed next to her, cross-legged, and she shifted to accommodate him. "I've wondered about your life before, I won't lie. Start small," he suggested. "What was Cora like?"

She thought before answering. "My relationship with her was tempestuous, at best, and destructive at worst. We did not get along, and my father often said it was because we were so alike. She…was not a good mother. Not in the way mothers usually are. Sometimes I wonder if she would have been different if she had bonded with someone in the pack and had a child."

Aldric did not like the sound of that. "What was your childhood like?"

Rory snorted. "I didn't have one."

"Everyone has a childhood," he encouraged. "Even I had one."

She looked away. "I'm sure I played when I was small. I wasn't much use to my mother until I got control of my reflexes, I assume."

Aldric chuckled, and then sobered when she didn't return his smile. "You're not joking."

"No, I'm not." She shook her head. "I don't remember much of my life before I was six years old. My earliest memory is throwing up in a bush during a long run with my mother."

He frowned. "She started training you that early?"

"Both she and my father were eager to see how strong and fast I could be. My mother constantly pushed me to my physical limits, marking my improvements in a journal."

"You make it sound like you were an experiment to your parents instead of their daughter."

Rory shrugged her shoulders. "I loved my father, but I don't think he ever wanted children. I think he was quite old, and being a vampire, he related differently to just about everyone."

"How old was he?" Aldric asked.

"He never told me. Every time I asked, he would look at me and say, 'That's no concern of yours, Aurora,'" she recalled, imitating what his voice must have sounded like. "In my experience, only very old or very young vampires are reluctant to share their ages. I assumed he was not the latter."

He raised his brows. "Huh. Why wouldn't he tell you how old he was?"

"I don't know. Perhaps he thought it would frighten me. I didn't bond well with him when I was younger, and maybe he feared it would alienate us further."

Aldric absorbed that. "Did you become closer to him as you got older?"

"I had to. He was the only one to turn to when my mother got to be too much to bear." Her face had taken on a faraway look. "When it became clear that I had stopped aging, he asked my permission to perform various tests."

"What kind of tests?" A small surge of protectiveness rose in him.

"He took my blood often. He wanted to see how many times I could shift back and forth, and how fast I could get at it." Rory rubbed her forehead, looking troubled. "That was worse than anything my mother had me do, but I wanted to help him."

"What did he do with your blood?"

"He never told me. He took samples with him when he left, and he would be gone for weeks at a time. Sometimes I could tell when he was pleased with his results, and when he wasn't."

Aldric was silent for a moment. "Honestly, Rory, this is painful to hear. You do realize how unfair this was to you, don't you?"

She gave him a small smile. "Thank you for saying that. I don't have anything to compare my life to, but I realized when my father wasn't coming back after Lilly was born that I had a choice. I wanted her to be strong, to be able to defend herself like I could. But she was a gentle baby, and she grew into a gentle child. I would look down at her and wonder if I had been the same way—if I had been molded into the person I was then because of my mother's wishes. I couldn't take that softness away from Lilly."

"I think Lilly can take care of herself," Aldric reasoned. "Look at what happened with the attack on the Hall."

"She can," Rory agreed. "I've taught her what I thought was necessary. Some of it is instinctual."

They fell into a silence, both thinking about what she had said. Aldric had many unpleasant thoughts about a teenaged Rory being drilled like a soldier by a cruel mother, and an emotionless father who cared only about the fascinating specimen his daughter had grown to be.

He assumed her parents had loved her, in their own way. She didn't hold a hatred for either of them, even now that they were gone. She held much resentment for them, which seemed only natural, but she had mourned for them.

Rory stood up and found her sword, getting ready to sharpen and clean it. Aldric recognized it as a nervous habit. He wondered if recounting some of the memories from her childhood had shaken her.

It had shaken him. He understood that she and Lilly were incredibly rare and unique, perhaps even the only ones of their kind, and he knew that many people would have questions about them. But it was unfair to take her life away from her the way it had happened.

Suddenly, all of Rory's little irritating quirks, as well as the larger, more serious issues, seemed insignificant. It was a marvel that she had turned out the way she had. Anyone else could have been driven to insanity by what she had endured.

As if she could hear what he was thinking, she looked over at him and said, "I don't want you to think my parents were evil people, Aldric."

"I wasn't," he protested. Truthfully, though, he had been leaning toward that opinion.

"They did the best with what they could," she told him. "My entire life was spent either learning about how strong I was and what I could do—whether pushed by my mother and father, or in battle with people sent to kill us. It was a hard life, but it was mine. I loved them."

"I understand," he assured her gently.

Her face was tight as she made minor repairs to the sheath of her sword. He got up from the bed and crossed the room to where she sat on the floorboards. She didn't look up when he stood over her, so he knelt and gently took the sheath from her hands.

Aldric pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her so that her feet didn't touch the ground. He carried her to the bed and lay down behind her, holding her securely to him. She pulled his arm to her face so that she could breathe in the scent coming from his wrist. No time at all passed before she fell deeply asleep.

* * *

Aldric woke early in the morning to hear Iona in the house, speaking to someone. He blinked sleep out of his eyes, confused. Who was in the house?

Then he heard the familiar low, husky laugh and the brogue of someone he knew well. He sat up with a shot.

"Brynjolf?"


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

Rory must have been on the edge of waking, because she heard Aldric say behind her, clear as a bell, "Brynjolf?"

Her eyes snapped open, and such a strong jolt of adrenaline went through her that it felt like her hair was standing on end. She bolted from the bed, but hadn't quite acquired control of her legs so quickly after sleep, and she went down hard on the floor.

"Rory!" Aldric exclaimed, half-laughing. He started floundering on the bed to get to her.

She scrambled, hauling herself up using the bed frame. She rounded the corner into the front room, heart pounding.

Rory was aware that both Brynjolf and Karliah were sitting at the table, but she only had eyes for the little girl who had turned to look at her, a huge grin on her face.

Lilly started to stand, pushing back from the table, but Rory lunged at her, sweeping her up into her arms. She knocked over the chair and multiple things on the table, but she didn't care.

"Ow," Lilly muttered, wriggling in her embrace. "Too tight!"

Rory buried her face in Lilly's neck, and suddenly she was crying. Lilly went still when she felt her tears on her skin, and her small hands patted her shoulders.

"I'm okay, Rory, promise," she whispered.

She pulled back and set Lilly on the floor, smoothing her hair away from her face. The girl was dirty, and looked tired, but she beamed up at her like nothing in the world was wrong.

Aldric placed a hand on her shoulder from behind, and then knelt to Lilly's level. She threw herself at him, giggling, and he engulfed her with his arms as he hugged her.

"I heard you've been fighting off vampires," he told her.

She nodded proudly. "One of them tried to rip up my doll, but I got him back."

"_That's_ why you did that?" Rory asked, thinking of the severed hand and the tooth. "He ripped up your doll?"

"Well," Lilly said indignantly, "it was mine, and people shouldn't take things that aren't theirs!"

Behind her, Brynjolf's face spread into a wide, toothy grin. Even Karliah couldn't hold back a smile of her own. "She has a point," he choked out, barely checking his laughter.

Rory rolled her eyes. "Where have you three been? Why did you come back to Riften? How did you know we would be here?"

Karliah answered her. "The first night after we left, we thought we were safe in the wilds. They quickly tracked us, however, and caught up to us before we'd made it to Ivarstead."

"The same vampires that destroyed the Hall?" Rory's heart skipped a beat.

She nodded. "Their leader, the one we'd escaped from, and two more. The one Lilly injured was with them initially, but he fell behind. I'm not sure if he was sent away for reinforcements, or if he simply succumbed to his injury. He was losing quite a lot of blood."

"What happened then?" Aldric asked.

"Karliah killed them all!" Lilly broke in, her eyes lit up. "She's even better with a bow than you, Rory! You should have seen it. It was wonderful."

"I didn't kill all of them," Karliah corrected her. "Their leader, Marcus, got away once again. I did shoot him twice, however, and I'm fairly certain I hit his lung. He may have not made it back to wherever he came from."

"And after that?"

"We doubled back from Ivarstead to Riften. I tried to track him for a while," Karliah grimaced, "but the trail ran cold. We spent the rest of the time backtracking around the Rift and Eastmarch, trying to confuse them. Then we figured this might be the last place for them to look for us—that they would never expect to look in the most obvious place."

"This is more information than I've ever had," Rory said. "I have never had a name before. What did he look like?"

"Sort of scrawny," offered Brynjolf, rubbing his chin. "Hooked nose. Brown hair the length of mine, or thereabouts, tied back in a partial braid. He was wearing the kind of armor they usually do, except his was red."

"He had a gold and ruby brooch pinned to his chest." Karliah pointed to a spot over her heart. "I wasn't close enough to see what it was shaped as."

Iona stirred the pot over the fire placidly, not showing the slightest interest in the conversation. The only sound for a long moment was the gentle clinking of her ladle against the sides of the pot.

"Where do we go from here, Aldric?" Karliah asked him, her voice even. "Where would you have us go? The Hall is destroyed. I cannot summon Nocturnal to ask for her guidance unless I am there or in the Sepulcher, and that is not a place to hide."

"No, no," Aldric shook his head, "I wouldn't have you go to the Sepulcher."

"The Guild is as safe as any place," Brynjolf suggested. "Anyone trying to invade there would have to fight through the city guard."

"Not necessarily. The Guild can be entered through the Ratway, and it would not be hard to disguise themselves," Rory countered. "Some of the more powerful ones can use their magic to become invisible."

Lilly exhaled through her mouth forcefully, making a 'pfft' sound. "So can Brynjolf and Karliah."

Rory raised a brow. "Is this true?"

Karliah inclined her head. "Nocturnal offers the Nightingales three unique powers once we are inducted. Being thieves, choosing her Shadowcloak has proven most valuable."

"Aye," Brynjolf agreed with a rascally smile. "You wouldn't believe the amount of insane heists I've been able to pull off with that nifty little parlor trick."

Karliah thumped him with a raw leek from the table. "They aren't _parlor tricks_, you oaf."

He grinned. "Anyhow, that came in most useful during the attack on the Hall. Luckily, the both of us were awake when they began to enter through the summoning room. I had just enough time to grab my weapons before they stormed the place. From there, it was all too easy to use the cloak to stalk them and wait until they were all in one place. Can't say I've ever used it quite like that before."

Rory looked at Aldric curiously. "Which one of Nocturnal's gifts did you choose?"

He gave a half-shrug. "I chose the Shadowcloak as well."

"Can I see it sometime?"

"Do it right now!" Lilly called out, bouncing up and down in her chair.

Aldric smiled. "I can only use it once in a while, the same way most werewolves can only shift once a day. After I call on the power, it takes me some time to build up the energy to use it again."

Lilly deflated. "Aw."

"You got to see it in action, little lassie," Brynjolf cajoled, messing her hair. "Wasn't that something?"

She nodded. "It was neat."

"Lilly, why don't we take a bath?" Rory suggested. "Then you can go to sleep in your room downstairs."

For a moment, it looked like Lilly would argue with that. Then she shrugged. "I _am_ pretty stinky."

Iona straightened up and turned around. "I can take her."

Rory hesitated, but then looked at Aldric. "Thank you, Iona. Here, let me get you her comb and some oil…you'll need to brush out her hair…"

Lilly made a loud sound of annoyance, but she went with the housecarl after Rory handed her the items she'd need. Aldric patted her on the shoulder when she walked back into the small kitchen, like he knew how difficult it was for her to trust Lilly to someone else.

"Brynjolf, Karliah, I want to thank both of you for what you've done," she told the two Nightingales. "I owe you a very serious debt. You kept Lilly alive at the risk of your own safety. I cannot hope to repay you for that, but if you ever need anything—"

Brynjolf shook his head calmly, raising a hand to cut her off. "We don't require any kind of compensation. I was helping out a good friend of mine." He smiled at Aldric.

Karliah was silent for a moment, and then she rose. "I'm going to go to the Guild to talk to Delvin about something."

Everyone watched her go. She avoided looking at anyone, and quickly closed the door behind her.

"What was that about?" Aldric asked Brynjolf.

The thief gave a brief shake of his head again. "I think she's upset about the Hall. That was her home. She's closer to Nocturnal than I am, and I think she worries about the implications of the destruction."

"Surely the three of us wouldn't be punished for that, would we?" A worry line settled between Aldric's brows.

"I wouldn't imagine so," Brynjolf said, but then started to look concerned as well.

"After everything that happened with Mercer, the most she did was slap Karliah on the wrist," Aldric pointed out.

"True," Brynjolf admitted. "I suppose I'd be a little more uneasy about this if this had happened to the Sepulcher."

Aldric nodded. "Right."

Both the men were silent for another moment, the worry palpable in the air. Rory rolled her eyes. She had no particular faith in any of the Divines, and the only daedric prince she even halfway believed in was Hircine.

She didn't bother to ask if the Hall could be fixed in any way. It could be cleaned and cleared of debris, but it wasn't likely to be livable. "Brynjolf, I would like to pay for anything that was destroyed in the fire. Please, I insist."

Rory had expected him to turn her down again, but he didn't. "I appreciate that, lass. Karliah will as well. Nothing expensive was lost, but the gesture is very kind."

Aldric looked like he was about to say something, but closed his mouth.

"I saw that," the thief jeered. "Got something on your mind, lad?"

Aldric chuckled. "You never turn down gold, do you?"

Brynjolf grinned. "How d'you think I've gotten to where I am now?" He winked at Rory. "A pretty woman offering me a sack of septims? I would be a right arse to turn that one down."

"Both of you will stay with the Guild, won't you?" Aldric changed the subject.

The other man nodded. "We're out of options, unless you have any other ideas."

"No." Aldric pushed his hair back from his face. "I can sense that Rory and I might be coming closer to solving this."

"We can take Lilly for a bit longer," Brynjolf offered.

Rory opened her mouth, but Aldric cut her off, looking at her. "Rory, no. We need to finish this."

Frustrated, she gestured at Brynjolf. "And if the Cistern is invaded? Are you willing to bet the lives of all of your friends?"

Brynjolf jumped in. "Don't be so sure of that, lass. We have quite a bit of people within, and many good fighters. Karliah and I will be there as well. Despite what you think, it wouldn't be an easy feat for them to come in force."

Aldric agreed with him. "Brynjolf is right. If the worst happens, they can take Lilly inside the Ratway Warrens. Esbern was living there behind the most secure door I'd ever seen, besides the one guarding the vault in the Cistern."

Rory squeezed the back of the chair in front of her. "How do you feel about this, Brynjolf?"

The man gave her an easy-going smile. "I'm always up for a bit of adventure. The attack on the Hall got my blood stirring. I'd rather like to give them what's coming to them if they try to come into the Cistern. I'd imagine Vex is due for a little action, herself. She's been so insufferable lately."

Aldric laughed. "She's got a two-year-old son, Brynjolf, go easy on her."

"Delvin is the most useless father I've ever laid eyes on. Jonah gets away with absolutely everything." Brynjolf sighed, mock-sternly.

"It's not only him, everyone else in the Cistern lets him do whatever he wants. He took a diamond necklace from Thrynn's end table, and he let him have it!"

Brynjolf snickered. "Picking up the trade early, that one is."

"Lilly might like it if Jonah visits," Aldric said.

Rory shut her eyes. "Please don't bring a little one around during this. I couldn't handle it if Vex lost her baby because of me."

Brynjolf sounded understanding. "All right, lass, don't worry. We won't bring him in until this is over."

Aldric held her hand, his thumb stroking her wrist. "We're close. We can do this, I know we can."

"What will you do now?" Brynjolf asked.

"I want to take what we've learned to the Dawnguard. I still haven't returned after Isran asked me to accompany Tolan on a mission." Aldric scowled. "Even if he refuses to help, the least we can do is trade information."

Rory snorted. "I hold no optimism for that, but I don't know what else to do. I don't think we can go back to Snowpoint for a while."

Aldric did not look pleased at the mention of the pack. "No, I don't think we can, thanks to you."

Brynjolf watched the back-and-forth exchange curiously. "What did you do?"

"Something that I shouldn't have."

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "We've all been there before. Mistakes are the most interesting part of life, sometimes."

* * *

Karliah never came back to Honeyside for the rest of the day and night. Brynjolf and Aldric didn't seem very concerned over that, saying that she was a private person who preferred to be alone most of the time. Rory felt terrible, and hoped that the Nightingale wouldn't hold it against her.

Lilly had been relieved that she was allowed to stay with Brynjolf and Karliah. Rory suspected she had developed a strong attachment to the red-haired thief, and couldn't blame her. His friendship came by very easily, with his infectious smile and loud laugh.

After they all shared a meal that night, Brynjolf took his leave. Lilly was curled up on the floor in front of the fire, fast asleep. Amusingly, Aldric had also fallen asleep—except he was sitting at the table, using his arm for a pillow like a drunk.

"Bring her to the Flagon tomorrow before you leave," he whispered at the door. "She'll get along well with everyone there."

"Thank you, Brynjolf." Rory squeezed his shoulder, and he covered her hand with his.

"Most excitement I've had in a while." He winked at her, and then left.

She closed the door behind him, and crossed the room to Lilly. She picked her up gently, shifting her to rest her head on her shoulder, and carried her down to the bedroom made up for her in the cellar.

When she walked back up, wondering how she was going to get Aldric into bed, she found that he'd already roused himself. He fell into the bed, still fully dressed.

Rory tugged his boots off, followed by his pants. When it came time to pull his cuirass over his head, he was too tired even to sit up and help her. She smoothed his hair down as it clouded around his head when the leather passed over it.

"Sorry," he mumbled drowsily, when she climbed in beside him. "Tired."

She kissed him, and forced herself to pull back. She badly wanted him to make love to her—he was unbearably handsome when he was sleepy. But she didn't have the heart to wake him. The both of them hadn't been getting much rest lately, but she suspected it wore on him more than it did her, though he'd never admit it.

He rolled on his side and nuzzled his face between her breasts, wrapping a heavy arm around her waist. Rory massaged his neck and shoulders, gently working out the hard knots in his muscles. It wasn't long before his breathing grew slow and deep.

She worried about what the next day would bring them. If Isran refused to give them aid, where would they go from there?


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: **I'm in the process of writing the ending right now, and it's definitely hard. It's looking like this will finish on Chapter 48 or so. So...next Friday or Saturday, it all ends.

* * *

**Chapter 41**

Leaving Lilly with the Guild was much less stressful than the process of leaving her at the Hall. She was fascinated by the Cistern, and couldn't wait to explore. True to his word, Brynjolf had introduced her to everyone that had been there at the moment, and not one person had been unkind or brief with her (besides Sapphire, who had abruptly turned the opposite direction and gone straight back up the ladder into the graveyard upon seeing Lilly).

Even Vex had shown a soft side with Lilly that Aldric rarely got to see. She'd brought Jonah for a visit every once in a while, but he had missed most of them since he'd been gone. It never failed to shock him with how easily she slipped from experience-toughened thief to the role of a mother.

Delvin, predictably, charmed the dickens out of Lilly upon their first meeting. He shared that talent with Brynjolf, and it served him well—after all, he'd eventually broken through Vex's resistance to him. The eight-year-old girl proved no challenge at all. Even Dirge was kind to her.

After leaving the Guild, Rory was more interested in Dayspring Canyon than she was with visiting the fort. Aldric watched her gape at the partially frozen waterfall located in front of the canyon's opening.

"That's beautiful," she said softly. "Who knew this was tucked away in the Rift?"

"It's impressive," he agreed. "Wait until you see the fort."

He wasn't disappointed with her reaction. He didn't miss her soft inhale of breath when they came upon the massive, utilitarian-looking structure.

"I imagine that was an encouraging sight when you came here for the first time." Her eyes traced the gray-brown bricks of the fort's towers. "No farmers here, right?"

Aldric smiled. "Well, there was a farmer's son there when I visited, but I think Isran knows what he's doing. He wouldn't accept someone that he couldn't mold into a soldier."

"Do you like him?" She glanced at him inquisitively. "Isran, I mean?"

He thought about how to answer the question diplomatically. He didn't want to influence her opinion before she even stepped inside. "He's…driven. He believes in what he's doing, whole-heartedly."

Rory gave him a look that said she knew exactly what he was doing. "I didn't ask how his morale was. I asked if you like him."

"No, I do not like him very much, you nosy thing." She scampered away when he tried to tweak her waist. "We don't have to like him."

Her brows shot up. "You like almost everyone we meet. You even tried to get along with Amon at first."

That was debatable. "Do you know what this reminds me of?" he asked.

"No. What?"

"When you were stalling before we went into Bonechill Passage."

As he knew she would, her mouth fell open in outrage. She sputtered for a moment, and then turned on her heel to march up the hill to the fort. He followed, smiling to himself.

It was odd—every once in a while, during times like this, he would feel a strange, giddy warmth in his chest suddenly, and he knew what it was. It was love for her. Aldric never would have guessed that it could be felt physically. He basked in the sensation as he watched her fume.

She stopped suddenly, and he tensed when she crouched low to the ground.

"What is it?" he asked, creeping up to her side.

"You can't smell that?"

He scented the air, noting that the breeze was coming right to them. It carried a smell that he was only recently familiar with—bodies that had no warmth, skin that was neither alive nor dead, that carried a sort of stale and quiet scent like a room long untouched. Vampires.

A man's voice shouted from ahead, just around the corner to the doors of the fort. Rory didn't bother with drawing her bow, and instead unsheathed her sword. In her left hand, she held her ebony dagger.

Aldric drew his own bow. If Rory was choosing close contact, then he wanted to be able to support her from a distance. She was too fast and moved too much for him to be able to fight side-by-side with her.

Isran and Celann, another Dawnguard, were both taking on a vampire wielding a spell in one hand and a steel war axe in the other. Isran had cast what looked to be some kind of unusual ward around himself—it looked like he was enveloped in a giant, transparent ball of pale golden light. It roiled around him, moving constantly, with a muted roaring sound. When the vampire he was fighting got too close, he let out a yell and jumped back.

Another vampire, hiding near the building's wall, lunged at Rory. Before it could get near her, Aldric's dragonbone arrow found his forehead. He hit the dirt and slid a good foot or two past Rory.

She turned to him. "I had him!"

He lowered his bow. "Move faster, then."

Her glare faltered as she looked past him. "Behind you!"

The female vampire approaching Aldric moved too quickly for him to string another arrow, and he tightened his hold on his bow as he rammed it into her chest. She stumbled, and then something hissed through the air next to Aldric's right side. Rory's dagger buried itself directly in the middle of her chest, and she dropped with a screech.

Aldric rubbed at the right side of his head, certain that he'd felt the dagger brush his hair on its way past him. "That was a little too close."

Rory smirked at him. "Move faster, then."

Isran was watching both of them, his ward having faded. "I was wondering if I'd ever see you again," he called to Aldric. Before he could answer, the man turned his gaze to Rory. "And who might you be? Another recruit? We could use someone like you. You're good with a blade."

Rory dipped her head at the compliment. "You're good with that oversized blacksmith's hammer of yours," she shot back, nodding at his warhammer.

Isran's already narrow gaze narrowed further, and Aldric thought he would take the jest seriously. Then he started to laugh. The sound made its way from his throat in a low rumble, like he had forgotten how. "Arrogant. Cocksure. Antagonistic. I might start to like you if you're not careful."

Aldric walked up to the steps where Isran stood. "Tolan was right about Dimhollow."

Isran's eyes swept over him. "Judging by the fact that he never returned and isn't with you now, I'd say he died in that cave."

"He did. He took some of them with him, though."

The other man clenched his jaw and looked away. "I told him not to go. The Vigil likes to think they've trained their members for this sort of thing, but they're barely able to scare off wild dogs."

"A man named Adalvald was within the cavern I investigated." Aldric handed him the journal he'd found next to the body. "This was with him."

Isran opened it and skimmed through it, his ever-present frown deepening. "Adalvald seemed to think the cavern contained architecture that was placed there well after the crypts around the structure had been created. Can you confirm this?"

Aldric nodded. "I can. It did look more advanced than any kind of ancient Nord work I've ever been in."

Isran looked up over the book at him. "And you have experience with ancient Nord work?"

"It's a hobby of his," Rory interjected.

Aldric shrugged.

"What happened when you investigated this… 'island of stone in a subterranean lake'?" Isran asked, quoting from the journal.

"There was a puzzle connected to some kind of magic I've never encountered."

"Did you figure it out?"

"Yes."

Isran gestured with his hand for Aldric to keep going.

This was the part he'd been dreading. "The platform sank into the floor, and a stone coffin rose from beneath. There was a vampire woman entombed inside. She'd been there for a very long time, I believe. Possibly thousands of years."

The other man's silver eyes sharpened. "What was she there for?"

"She wouldn't tell me."

"Did you leave her body there, or did you take it with you from the crypt?" Isran closed the journal and tucked it into his belt.

Aldric exchanged a look with Rory. Her eyes were calm and encouraging. "I did not kill her, Isran. I had no reason to. She indicated the vampires in the crypt were pursuing her under unfriendly terms, and wished to return to her home."

"And you let her." Isran's voice lowered an octave.

"Yes."

Rory took a subtle step closer to him and nudged him with her elbow. He didn't have to look at her to know what that meant.

"I'm leaving something out," he admitted.

"Why do I get the feeling this will make it worse instead of better?" Isran demanded rhetorically.

"Serana—the vampire woman—had an Elder Scroll with her."

"_What?_" Across the way where Celann and Durak stood waiting, they both turned their heads at the sound of Isran's thundered exclamation. Durak's face never lost its cool, aloof expression, but Celann shifted his weight nervously. "And still you let her go?"

"Believe me, Isran, the thought crossed my mind many times," Aldric said tiredly. "I didn't feel up to fighting an ancient vampire over the possession of something that we don't have authority over in the first place."

"There's no telling what a bunch of bloodsuckers could do with a scroll," he snapped, his teeth showing against his dark skin and long beard. "So now they have everything they want, and we have nothing."

Aldric waited for Rory to bring up what they'd found out about the vampires that attacked the Hall—they'd agreed that she would take the lead with that. But she said nothing. He snuck a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She was watching Isran passively, waiting.

Confused, he looked back at Isran. "What can we do to help?"

Isran crossed his arms over his chest. "Now that you mention it, it looks like we're going to need more than what we've got already. Two people, to be specific."

* * *

"I am _not_ going to the Reach," Rory growled as she stomped down the path back to the narrow canyon that led back to the Rift.

"Good, then you can take the man that's searching for wild trolls to domesticate," he replied, half-laughing. He knew how much she hated the creatures.

She gritted her teeth. "I'd rather deal with them than the Forsworn."

"Fine." He sighed. "Then I'll go to the Reach and find Sorine Jurard. You can take the 'big brute of a Nord' that Isran knows."

Rory walked past him, her tone haughty. "That should be rather easy, considering that I'm mated to one." They pushed through the small cave exiting from the canyon back into the countryside.

Despite his annoyance with the situation, he had to smile. "Hey, come back. Why didn't you speak up about the vampires from the Hall?"

She smirked. "Isran will be much easier to deal with once he's gotten what he wants—just like every man. Bring him his people, and he'll feel compelled to return the deed. Even if he refuses to help, someone is bound to know something."

"And how are you so certain of that?"

Rory held up the scrap of paper that Isran had given her. "I have the exact location of a man that Isran hasn't spoken to in years. How he knows Gunmar is in the vicinity of Honeystrand Cave is a frightening mystery, but he clearly has his ways."

Aldric chuckled. "Fair enough. I suppose I'll see you in the next ten days or so. I'll gather some supplies from Honeyside and leave tonight."

"I think I'm going to see if Isran will let me stay inside the fort while we wait for you to return," she mused. "I want to get a firmer grasp on what kind of people they are. If I can get Isran to spar with me, that would be even better."

He shook his head. "I highly doubt he would do that, but you have your ways."

* * *

Finding Sorine had been easy enough, but the hard part was trying to convince her to return with him to Fort Dawnguard. They had argued back and forth for ten minutes before he'd thrown his hands up in the air and agreed to help her find a sack of dwarven gyros that she insisted had been pilfered by mudcrabs. The only person he'd ever met that was more hardheaded than the petite Breton was Rory.

Amazingly enough, he had found her satchel. It was on the riverbank not far from where she was conducting research, and from the way it had been half-dragged into the water, mudcrabs did seem likely enough suspects. After returning it to her, she'd finally agreed to meet him in Riften.

Aldric had avoided the temptation to stop by Lakeview Manor in Falkreath on the way back. There were far too many distractions for him, and he was sure Rayya and Lydia would be only too accommodating to hovering over him like two mothers forcing their child to eat, bathe, and get a long night of sleep. Everyone else was doing without at the moment, waiting on him, so he could push through it all.

Somehow, Sorine had beaten him back to Fort Dawnguard. Unless she had taken a horse, he had no idea how that was possible. He walked into the fort, noting that both she and a tall, muscle-bound Nord that could only be Gunmar stood in the center of the circular foyer.

"Are you waiting for someone?" he called out, letting the doors slam behind him.

Sorine jumped at the sound, and then turned to him, irritation written across her features. "We've been waiting here ever since I arrived six hours ago! Isran has trapped us here." She gestured around them with a huff. Gunmar sized him up quietly, not saying anything.

Aldric noticed that barred iron gates had been cranked up to block all routes of escape. Just when he was started to work up some concern, Isran's voice sounded from above.

"Took you long enough, Aldric. Any longer and I think Sorine would have tried to bash her way out of here."

Aldric looked up, squinting. He was barely able to make out Isran's form, leaning jauntily against the inner balcony above them.

"What's going on, Isran?"

In answer, the foyer filled with strong sunlight, magnified by some contraption fixed high overhead. He held his hand over his eyes, blinded.

"You cannot be serious, Isran!" Gunmar snapped.

"What's he doing?" Sorine inquired.

"He's testing to see if we're vampires," the Nord answered her.

Isran snorted in amusement. "Can't be too careful."

"Actually, if they were Volkihar vampires, the sun would have affects on them that you'd have no way of discerning," came a voice directly ahead of the three. "Look at their eyes, Isran. There is no way to disguise vampirism there. You're using outdated and unreliable methods."

Rory was on the other side of one of the gates, watching what was happening. Aldric crossed the floor to her, and he touched her fingers where her hand was wound around one of the bars.

"You're here," she said, her voice low.

"I'm here. What's been happening since Sorine got here?"

She looked up, as if she could see Isran through the stone. "The moment she arrived, he had two others hold her at the entrance, crossbows pointed at her. They roused Gunmar from where he'd been sleeping and pulled him in here with her. Then the gates went up. Every single person has been ignoring the two of them for hours," she whispered, frowning. "Sorine wasn't even offered water or food after her journey."

Aldric did not like the sound of that. "And Isran?"

"He never left his quarters upstairs. The same two that threatened Sorine barred my way up to him. I didn't want to hurt them, so I stopped trying. Something is wrong, Aldric. I heard commotion late last night at the doors." Rory looked worried, which made him worried.

"Are you going to lower the gates or not?!" Sorine screamed upward, furious.

Rory looked past him at the other woman. "I may have made a mistake telling him his methods were outdated."

"I can't allow him to trap me in here for as long as he feels like." Aldric ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated.

"No, we can't," Rory agreed.

"What should I do?"

"There's very little you can do." Celann strode up behind Rory. "Until Isran lowers the gates, you'll be nice and safe in there."

"On the contrary," said Rory. "I don't care if the other two stay in there, but Aldric is coming out. Now."

Celann's smile was one of someone who had long been used to having their orders obeyed without hesitation. "You don't quite get it, do you? Isran is in charge here, and I'm his second. You make no decisions here. Whine and stomp your feet all you desire, little girl, but he'll be in there until Isran or I say otherwise."

At once, all the worry and annoyance in Rory's face vanished. The new expression that settled across her features was one of utmost calm and stillness. That made Aldric's anxiety rise, because he knew exactly what it meant.

If Rory made the decision that she wanted him out of there, then it would happen. One way or another.

She tightened her grip on the bar she'd been holding. Her stance changed and her arm flexed as she pulled. The heavy, thick metal of the gate audibly groaned as she rattled it in its tracks.

Celann scowled and rushed forward. "What in Oblivion do you think you're doing?"

Aldric flinched when Rory suddenly drove her elbow backward into Celann's mouth. He staggered with a curse, his hand going to his face.

"You b—" he started to yell, and she kicked the back of his left knee, hard.

He fell to both knees, and she grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head backward sharply. Blood bubbled from the cuts inside of his mouth as he bared his teeth in pain.

"Release me!" he shouted.

"Lower the gates." Rory's voice held a nearly untraceable edge of growl.

"Who do you think you—_argh!_" He yelped when Rory slammed his face forward against the gate.

"My apologies." She said the words half-laughingly, half-embarrassed, like she was sincerely apologizing. "What were you saying?"

"Lower the gates!" Celann ground out, fury in his eyes.

Distantly, above him, Aldric heard Isran's voice. Then all three gates began to lower into the floor.

Rory let go of Celann, and he scrambled forward to regain his footing. He stumbled into the foyer where Sorine and Gunmar were waiting. He began to shout furious, awful things at her, in between spitting blood on the floor.

Aldric stepped over the threshold of the gate, looking back at the injured Dawnguard. "Too far," he hissed warningly to Rory.

She bristled. "No one separates me from you."

"They weren't going to hurt me, Rory."

"You haven't smelled the fear and tension around here, Aldric," she growled.

Heavy boots striding across the stone announced Isran's presence before he rounded the corner. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't cave your head in right now."

Rory turned to face him. "Try it," she snarled.

Aldric placed his hands on her shoulders and gently moved her out of her defensive position in front of him. "I apologize, Isran. Rory is…protective of me."

Isran hesitated. "She's your woman?"

He nodded.

"Every person you command here has been prowling around all day, angry, upset, worried, fearful," Rory asserted. "You made your first mistake by trapping your old friends in there for hours. You made your second mistake by trying to trap my mate in there with them. Is this how you treat the people who would fight on your side?"

Isran's mouth was a tight line. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I shouldn't have doubted you, Aldric. Sorine and Gunmar are another story, for now, but you…have proven useful to me."

Aldric was relieved that Isran had apparently missed Rory's slip when she used the term 'mate.'

"Look at my face, Isran!" Celann raged. "Look at what she did to me!"

The leader of the Dawnguard looked past Aldric at him. "Who was it that told me he couldn't be trusted?"

"They can't!" the auburn-haired man yelled.

"They've done more for me in a month than you've done in three years!" Isran reprimanded him. "I want to hear nothing else from you, Celann. Switch duty with Durak and get some sleep."

"And you," he said, pointing at Rory. "No more slapping my soldiers around. Celann might have deserved it, but he's the exception to the rule. Everyone here follows my command. You have a problem, you take it up with me."

"If Aldric is going to be helping the Dawnguard, he isn't one of your soldiers. Neither of us are," Rory retorted. "If anyone tries to lay a finger on him again, I'll take their hand."

Both Isran and Aldric blinked at her.

"Rory, sometimes you frighten me," Aldric murmured, stroking her back in long, soothing lines.

"Loyalty like that is hard to come by," Isran noted. He looked at Aldric. "You might need it."

"Why is that?" he asked.

The other man narrowed his eyes. "Your precious vampire friend came looking for you. It's waiting upstairs right now."


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N:** Thank you so much to all my readers and reviewers. I've cut back on posting my thanks to you all in the author's notes because I thought it might be getting a little annoying, but I'm responding to all my reviewers - rest assured, your words mean very much to me. This story would likely not be where it is now without you.

* * *

**Chapter 42**

Aldric was right. Before Serana even spoke, Rory could sense something very different about her. With most other vampires, their cruelty could almost be smelled in the air like a tangible scent. The woman in front of her looked back at her with a complete absence of malice.

She was tall and slim, with dark brown hair pulled back from her face in delicate braids. The rest of it fell to just above her shoulders. Serana was beautiful, with a long slim nose and a finely boned face. Her full mouth, like Aldric's, seemed constantly ready for a smile.

She wore armor that was vaguely similar to what they'd seen on other vampires, though hers looked to indicate status; it was better-crafted, a leather jerkin worn over a rich, crimson tunic with long sleeves. A cape, pinned with a unique gold brooch, fell from her shoulders to her knees. She was dressed for action, with trousers and sturdy-looking boots. A slim belt circled her waist, with a dagger hanging from it.

Rory looked into Serana's orange eyes, and Serana looked right back at her.

"Well, this is a surprise," the vampire said curiously. "With the way Isran has been treating me since I arrived, I wouldn't have expected to find another vampire here."

Isran had led them to the second floor of the fort, to a room next to his personal quarters. He had clearly deposited Serana in that room for a reason; it looked to have been used for torture. Old blood spattered the walls and some of the floor. Eight animal skulls decorated the far wall, and hay bales were stacked in the corner.

The leader of the Dawnguard froze where he stood next to Aldric. "What in Oblivion are you talking about?" he snarled to Serana.

She smiled pleasantly and gestured to Rory. "I'm talking about her."

"What about her?" Aldric asked cautiously.

Serana looked at Rory again. "Your eyes are different. Maybe that's how you can pass for human. But you're like me."

"Ah…" Rory started, her eyes flicking to Isran.

His expression was unnerving. "What is she talking about?"

Aldric jumped in. "Rory is not a vampire."

Serana leaned forward, smelling the air in front of her. "Well, that's interesting, because she smells just like one. _You_, on the other hand, are obviously a werewolf."

Isran's reaction was instantaneous. He stepped far back from all of them and reached up to put a hand on his warhammer. He hadn't drawn it, not yet, but the threat was clear. "Start explaining. Now."

Aldric's hands were in front of him, soothingly, gesturing to Isran. "I apologize that I said nothing earlier, but I was fairly certain you wouldn't assist us if you knew what we were."

Serana's thin, shapely brows were raised. "This _is_ a surprise."

"We have the same goals, Isran," Rory stated. "Aldric and I are hunting vampires that have been trying to kill me and my family for decades. We came to you because we need help. We are not a threat to you."

"According to this thing, you're one of them," Isran growled, cocking his head in Serana's direction.

"My father was a vampire. My mother was a werewolf. This is why I've been hunted since I was born," Rory said warily. If the warhammer came off his back, she was going to respond, no matter what Aldric wanted. "I can't help the way I was born, Isran."

The man's grip tightened on his weapon's handle. "You're a half-breed monster."

Aldric stiffened next to her.

"That may be true," she acknowledged, "but I don't want to hurt or kill anyone except those who try to do the same to me. We came to you intending to trade."

"Trade what?" he snapped.

"Information." She spread her hands. "Services. If you help us, we'll help you."

His arm tensed. "I don't need help from you."

"Yes, you do." Serana lips turned up in a wry smirk. "When you hear what I've got to tell you, you're going to need all the help you can get."

* * *

Rory had worried that Isran would decide violence was a better course of action than listening, but to his credit, he had sat down to hear Serana tell her story. His tension hadn't disappeared, but it was now of a different flavor. Rory no longer feared he would attack them.

Serana had spent the last hour telling the three of them about the Elder Scroll she still had with her, and what it meant. Her father, Harkon, had stumbled upon some kind of prophecy involving the sun and an Elder Scroll.

Isran had shaken his head at that. "Let me try to understand this: the more powerful vampires, these…_Volkihar_ vampires…don't feel the pain of the sun."

"Indirectly, yes," Serana told him.

"Only the lesser ones do."

"That's right."

"So only the weak ones benefit from the sun darkening?" he asked, lip curled. "We can handle those. We've _been_ handling them."

"Isran, the sun also stops us from being able to heal injuries, or restore our natural supply of magical energy." Serana had looked to Rory and Aldric for assistance.

"And the weaker ones will come out in force," Rory interjected. "They may be easier to defeat, but not in great numbers."

"I'm going to speak to Celann and Durak about this. We'll decide on a plan of action." Isran had risen, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. "Stay where you are until I return."

That had been an hour ago.

Rory scented dust and harsh soap in the air, indicating that the fort had recently been cleaned out. She could also smell fresh earth from somewhere deeper inside. She hadn't explored at all while Aldric had been gone, feeling uneasy, but she reasoned that they might have places within that were connected to natural caverns.

"I can't hear them," Serana muttered, her head tilted to the side.

Rory leaned back. "I was just thinking about that."

"That they've retreated into some secret place?" She chuckled. "Probably."

Aldric watched the two of them. "We have to figure out what we'll do if his answer is negative."

"You think he'll attack?" Serana asked him.

He looked uncomfortable. "I would like to think that he wouldn't, but I won't discount it."

Serana turned to Rory. "Can I ask you something?"

Rory shrugged. "Go ahead."

"You must be the first of your kind that I've ever encountered," she murmured, her orange eyes scanning her body. "This is fascinating. Can you feed on blood, or do you only consume food?"

Rory shifted in her position leaning against the wall. "Both," she admitted.

Aldric's head turned toward her in shock. "You can live on blood?"

"Yes, I can live on it. It's not pleasant, but I can do it," she snapped.

"You said your mother was a werewolf. Can you shift?" Serana pressed.

"I can. I identify as a wolf. We've stayed with a pack recently that accepted the two of us as their kind." Rory frowned at her. "You honestly cannot smell that on me?"

"Your scent is unique, but yes, I believed you were like me." Serana looked at Aldric. "She smells like a werewolf to you?"

He nodded. "And to every other wolf we've been near."

"Amazing," Serana breathed. "You do realize how useful that could be, don't you?"

Rory didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

"If you were to infiltrate a coven, they would think you're one of them," Serana pointed out.

"Except for my eyes."

"They aren't lit from within, like mine, but they're close enough to pass. I would assume something about your blood, maybe your heritage, had caused a slight defect." Serana peered at her closely. "I have seen some unique things from elves before. Do you have Mer blood?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"What about—" Aldric started to say, but he stopped as soon as he heard Isran approaching.

The other man walked heavily into the room, his face lined with weariness. "I've spent the last hour trying to quell a blossoming rebellion amongst my men and women," he sighed. "I can't force them to do something they disagree with."

"Are you not the leader of the Dawnguard?" Serana was unable to keep the irritation from her voice.

"I will lose almost all of them if I agree to help you." Isran glared at her. Then he looked to Aldric. "I can push past the fact that you're not human. But the two of them…" He gestured to the two women. "No."

"You need my cooperation to end this." Serana stood. The Elder Scroll jutting over her shoulder caught the light.

Isran's eyes flicked to the scroll. "And _you_ need _my_ help."

"Then we have a problem," the vampire shot back.

Aldric bent forward in his chair with a groaning sigh, resting his head in his hands. "This is worse than negotiating with Jarl Ulfric and General Tullius," he muttered.

"You won't help me, and you won't help Serana," Rory summed up. "But you'll accept Aldric's help. You are taking, and giving nothing."

"Trust is earned, girl," Isran retorted. "Your father is one of them." He jerked his thumb to Serana. "Why in Oblivion would you want to fight against them?"

"_Was_ one of them," she corrected. "Loyalty isn't passed down through blood. If my mother's people pursued me, I would still be on this path."

"Hmph." Isran snorted. "If you can prove that to me, then we might be able to talk further."

Aldric lifted his head and spoke directly to Serana. "Then I extend the offer to you. You help us, and we'll help you."

Serana's brows rose at the same time her mouth quirked in amusement. "I'm intrigued. What have you got for me?"

"Wait here." Rory turned and left.

She descended the stairs and retrieved the satchel she'd brought with her. When she returned, the room was still silent, as if not a word had been spoken in her absence.

Rory reached into the bag and pulled out the severed hand. Isran recoiled and threw himself away from her. "By the gods, woman!"

She waggled the hand at him. "Afraid, Isran?"

"How long have you been carrying that around?"

Serana drifted closer, looking at the appendage. "That's a vampire's hand. It doesn't rot the same way a human's hand would." She reached out and gently straightened the hand, her fingertips brushing the pointed, claw-like nails.

"My sister did this to one of her attackers." Rory drew the canine tooth out of a small pocket. "This as well."

"They belonged to the same person," Serana observed.

Rory looked at her. "You have the scent?" When Serana nodded, she put the hand and the tooth back in the bag. She withdrew a piece of paper and handed it to the vampire. "Some friends of ours saw this on one of them. They heard that his name was—"

"—Marcus," Serana finished. She looked at the drawing only briefly before her eyes met Rory's. Wordlessly, she pointed to the jeweled pin on her own clothing.

Aldric stood up and walked closer. "You know him."

"He's a member of my father's inner court. He was an over-reaching bastard even before I was put into that cave. This pin signifies royalty." Serana handed the paper back to Rory.

"First royal bloodsucker I've ever met," Isran grumbled from the corner.

"My father ruled over much of Skyrim at one point," Serana said absently. "I know Marcus. He's predictable. We don't change much as time passes. I know where to find him."

Aldric's excitement was palpable. "What else can you tell us about him?"

"As you may have already figured, he's very old, like I am." Serana turned and paced across the floor. "He's hungry for power. He's not as ambitious as a couple of others in my father's court, but he's worse because he's not afraid to pursue his own agenda. Ortholf and Vingalmo will do the same, but not to the same extent as Marcus."

"You're implying that your father isn't behind this," Aldric reflected.

Serana pursed her lips just a shade. "Yes, I am."

"And how certain are you of that? You've been locked in a tomb for hundreds of years at the very least."

"This prophecy has changed my father," Serana said. "It turned him into a monster. He is obsessed beyond anything I've ever seen. He devotes all his time and resources to this, and this only. Anything else would be small and annoying to him, like an insect."

"Then it's Marcus doing this himself," Rory clarified.

"If I had to guess, yes, I would say Marcus has taken this upon himself." Serana's face was serious.

"Why, though?" Aldric rubbed his hands over his face. Rory could hear his skin passing over the scratchy stubble on his cheeks and was distracted for a moment.

"That, I can't say." Serana put a hand on her hip. "We can find that out if you're not squeamish, however." She grinned.

Aldric glanced at Rory. "I think you might get along very well with Rory."

Rory returned Serana's smile. "Ready when you are."


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N: **Warning for graphic violence and description of torture in this chapter, folks.

**IsoldeNecrophilia**, your reviews crack me up.** Drew Ike Treboot**, thank you for spotting the error in the last chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 43**

Aldric had a moment, when he and Rory and Serana were walking out of Fort Dawnguard, where he wondered if he would ever be able to come back. Almost every member of the vampire-hunting faction had crowded into the circular hall in front of the doors to watch them go. They were all still and quiet, but Aldric could feel the anger vibrating in the air.

Serana seemed to be remarkably unaffected, breezing past everyone like they were statues. Rory, like him, had sensed what hung in the atmosphere—and judging by the tight set of her shoulders as she followed Serana, she was ready for someone to make a sudden movement.

Only Agmaer, the young blond farmer's son that had joined up the same day Aldric had first visited, seemed to be remotely friendly. He caught Aldric's eye as he passed and gave him a single, solemn nod. He returned it after swallowing his brief second of surprise.

Isran watched them go from his perch on the balcony high above. He had had little to say to Aldric, but told him that when he finished what he'd started, he should come find him again.

The week they'd spent traveling since leaving the Rift had flown by. Aldric had initially been worried that Serana and Rory wouldn't get along—and looking back on that thought, he had to admit that he felt stupid for it.

He'd never seen Rory this animated. For the first day and most of the night, she and Serana had not stopped talking. The topics were endless—the schools of magic, different spells and their difficulties, the upsides and downsides of certain weapons, their personal combat styles, and the highlights of things they'd seen, fought, defeated, beheaded, gutted, stabbed, or incinerated.

It was downright macabre, but it was also entertaining. To walk along behind the two women, hearing them recount stories of violence in great detail, was something he doubted he'd encountered before. Aldric also doubted Rory had ever met a woman just as fierce as herself.

Serana had started to question Rory on her abilities and talents, as a hybrid, but Aldric was impressed when she quickly realized that was a sensitive subject and stopped.

They learned that Serana preferred to use magic in combat. In one hand, she wielded a spell for deadly-looking spikes of ice, and in the other she wielded the vampires' signature spell that allowed her to absorb her enemies' life force. She also proved to be skilled in the art of necromancy—Serana frequently raised the dead bodies of recently slain enemies to fight for her, something that unnerved Aldric.

They worked well as a team—Rory preferred close combat, Serana the middle, and Aldric far back with his bow. Every obstacle they encountered resulted in a fluid, coordinated effort.

Marcus had created a small stronghold for himself in Haafinger, not far from a statue commemorating the daedric prince Meridia. They were less than a mile from it now, in the snowy hills between Solitude and Dragon Bridge.

"How many does he have in there with him?" Aldric asked Serana.

The vampire shrugged. "It's hard to say. You said he had at least three or four others with him when they attacked your sister, right?"

Rory nodded. "Yes."

"I wonder if he still has his friends from court with him," Serana mused.

Aldric scouted the land ahead with his eyes while they talked. "Others followed him?"

"He had a small circle of vampires that sided with him. Only one of them was particularly powerful. Taluril, Larissa, Dolf, Petyr, Lukas…" Serana trailed off, her lips moving silently as she concentrated.

All the blood rushed out of Rory's face.

Serana noticed and frowned. "What is it?"

"You knew…my father?" Rory's mouth moved awkwardly, as if her lips were numb.

Serana blinked. "Who was your father?"

"Lukas. Lukas was my father."

"Oh." Serana turned slowly to face Rory. "I…don't know what to say."

She shook her head. "I thought often about why exactly we were hunted, besides the principle of being a hybrid. My father didn't support Harkon?"

"It wasn't that." The vampire bit her lip. "He didn't seek power for himself, or wish to see Marcus in my father's place. Lukas and Marcus, they…"

"What?" Rory demanded. "You can't hurt me with this, Serana. Tell me."

"Marcus hunted werewolves. He wanted to wipe them out, to drive them from Skyrim or kill them all. His wife had been killed by two of them. Lukas and several others joined him." Serana's hand smoothed the fabric of her leggings.

Rory gave a low, humorless laugh. "And he ended up falling in love with one."

A tiny smile formed on Serana's lips. "It is ironic, isn't it? Marcus must have sent him on some mission that brought him to your mother. Was she part of a pack?"

"Yes." Rory's gaze was on the wintery sky above them. "Snowpoint. In Winterhold."

"Most vampires as old as Marcus have learned mastery over their emotions. We have to—court life is like living inside a nest of venomous snakes. Every action or word, no matter how small, is political. But Marcus is renowned even among our kind as being prone to anger." Serana tilted her head. "This makes sense to me, why he would hunt your father and your family. It must have enraged him that Lukas betrayed their cause."

Aldric reached out and ran his hand down Rory's arm, ending the movement by winding his fingers with hers. He was pleased that she let him. "Let's finish this, Rory. We're so close now."

Her eyes hardened. "We do this my way."

"Of course," Serana agreed.

Rory looked to Aldric. "If you can't handle what I'm about to do, then you stay outside."

He frowned. "What exactly are you planning to do?"

"I am going to make sure this ends with Marcus." Her lips were a thin line. "Whatever that takes. If he has information, it will be mine before we leave."

Aldric had been mildly worried that Rory's emotions were going to compromise her actions that night, but he chastised himself. She had better control over that than almost anyone else he knew. For years, she had placed every personal desire of hers into a small box deep inside of her, for Lilly's benefit. She was capable of putting on a hard outer mask if her situation required it.

She had changed into that person over a matter of hours while they waited for the sun to dip below the horizon. Slowly, she withdrew from him. She stopped smiling, she stopped doing anything but preparing. When he tried to touch her, she moved away.

He knew why—she had to. Rory was steeling herself to put an end to something that she had feared and hated her entire life. From a small child, she had been trained to fight against exactly what they were finally facing. Her mind was shielding itself in preparation.

It still bothered him. Serana chatted with him amiably as they waited, but he kept one eye on Rory. He could almost feel her creeping away from him—ever since they had bonded, he was amazed to note that he had a better sense for her feelings and thoughts. Now, it was like she had shut that down.

Aldric knew instinctively that this was not permanent; that it might take some coaxing, but she would return to him. If he hadn't known that, he would have been certain that she was separating herself from him.

Rory refused to do what they were ready to do during the day. Serana had gently pointed out that while the sun was still in the air, any vampires inside would be sluggish and weak, if they weren't still dead for the day. It would be an easy task for them to sweep in and take out their enemies one by one.

"No." Rory's voice had been cold. "We do this at night, when they're at their full strength. They will offer me a battle. Anything less will be insulting."

Aldric had rubbed at the spot between his eyes at that, which was becoming a habit he was falling into ever since he'd met Rory. Serana had looked at him, and then agreed.

True night had since fallen. The sky was well and truly dark, devoid of any light. Secunda was in hiding. A brilliant aurora looked to be blooming in the east over the mountains.

Rory stood from their makeshift campsite. "I want to make it as far as we can inside using stealth. No noise. No magic."

Serana pulled a face. "I thought you wanted them to battle you."

"I do, but I'm not brainless. If we storm the stronghold, it will be a far longer and bloodier battle than any of us are prepared for," she reflected. "It also gives Marcus a greater chance to escape. He's proven that he's skilled in the art of preserving his own life while others fight for him."

"Fine," Serana grumbled. "I won't be much use if I can't use my magic, though, I warn you."

"Stay behind me," Aldric suggested. "I'll follow Rory, and you bring up the rear. Can you handle any of them we might miss?"

Serana drew her Elven dagger. "I think that's within my abilities." She winked.

Rory watched them, her face blank. "Let's move."

* * *

Marcus' stronghold was unimpressive from the outside. It was a narrow cave opening, and it was nearly unable to be distinguished from the shadows in the mountainside. Like the entrance to Dayspring Canyon, it was extremely easy to miss—and unlike the entrance to Dayspring Canyon, it lacked any kind of identifying mark.

Serana pointed to it with a slim finger. "There," she breathed into Rory's ear.

Rory nodded in recognition that she'd heard her. She drew her ebony dagger and crept forward. She moved on the sides of her feet, muffling her footsteps in the snow. Nature seemed to accommodate her every movement—the scrub brush around them seemed to part for her, the snow did not crunch underneath her. It was impressive to behold.

Aldric was not as skilled. A dead branch cracked under his boot. Not missing a beat, Rory paused, looked behind her, and swatted his stomach with the back of her hand. He glimpsed her feral grin in the little light that was available.

"None of them are outside," she whispered.

Serana snorted. "Lazy."

"Overconfident," Aldric reasoned.

The other woman smirked at him. "That too."

They both turned to see that Rory was nearly at the mouth of the cave. Serana frowned and took her position behind Aldric as they caught up with her.

Aldric grabbed Rory's elbow, and she turned to him with a snarl. "Hey," he snapped. "Save that for them. Don't get ahead of yourself. If you rush ahead of us too quickly and get separated, you might get yourself or one of us killed."

She pulled her arm out of his grasp. "I know that."

"You almost left us outside. Please try to keep a level head. I know you're angry, but you need to push that back."

Aldric could smell her wolf, and realized she was far angrier than he'd realized. "I will."

He stared into her eyes. "I love you."

She glared back at him, but then suddenly her shoulders lost their tension. She leaned forward and kissed him softly. He cupped her cheek with his hand, and the moment stretched on until Serana shifted behind him.

"Unless you're going to bring any of that my way, can we continue, please?" she said dryly.

Rory pulled back, and Aldric could see that little bit of her beast in her eyes again. "Let's go."

Aldric was beyond irritated to see that the inside of the cave did not get much wider as they progressed. It was almost as bad as Bonechill Passage. He bit back a curse every time he thumped his head against a rock, or felt his shoulder blades being scraped by the jagged walls.

Rory, as usual, had no problem with the passage and was waiting for him within. The cave's entrance had led to a small tunnel that sloped upward and opened into a larger cavern beyond. Ahead of them, framed by light from within the larger room, stood a sentry.

Aldric looked at the guard. He wasn't there to be a true discouragement against any invaders; rather, he was a kind of last resort. Intruders would have to kill him to get past, but the problem was that even an ambush from behind would result in sound. The man would likely be able to get a scream or at least a grunt out before his throat was slit.

Rory pointed to the sentry, and then tapped herself on the chest, looking at him and then Serana. Aldric knew that she meant the target was hers. He cocked his head at her, brow raised. Doubtlessly, she knew the same things he did.

He watched her stalk the man as she crept forward. The sentry was sipping at a silver goblet, tunelessly humming to himself as he watched the goings-on beneath him.

Rory straightened up behind him. Moving like flowing water, she seized his head, her left hand clapping over his mouth and pressing him tightly against her. In the same breath, she drove her dagger hard into his middle. She shoved until the blade was almost entirely hidden within his body.

He gave almost no struggle, and she gently turned to the side to deposit his body to the ground. Aldric understood immediately what she'd done; her dagger had slipped underneath his ribcage, piercing his lung before reaching his heart. He couldn't have made sound even if she hadn't covered his mouth, because he wouldn't be able to draw breath.

He made a note of that in the back of his mind. That was a handy trick. Aldric wondered who had taught that to her.

Rory lowered to her belly and crawled to the small natural balcony that hung over the large room in front of them. Aldric mimicked her, but Serana opted to hang back.

Underneath them, a hall of sorts had been fashioned. A long, dark wooden table draped with cloth-of-gold had been situated down the middle of it. Much like Harkon's court, bodies were placed every so often. Only two vampires were feeding at the moment. Another one had his back to the room, occupying himself with the alchemy station there.

A fourth vampire was directly below them, arms crossed as he watched the two at the table. Rory pointed at that one, again indicating that she would go for him. Aldric glanced at the others; if done quietly enough, they may not notice her.

He nodded to her, and she swiftly lunged over the lip of the overhang. He looked below him as she landed silently, like a shadow behind the vampire. At the very last second, he must have registered her presence, because he uncrossed his arms and stood straighter.

Rory dispatched him the same way she'd done to the sentry. Just as before, nothing came out of his mouth except a gurgle of dark blood. She caught him as he fell and lowered him to the floor.

Melding with the darkness in the cave, she approached the feeding vampire on the right side of the table. Aldric walked down the natural sloping pathway to the floor, avoiding the torch set into the wall. He moved painfully slowly, not wanting to alert the gaze of the man Rory was currently behind.

The vampire on the other side of the table from her target had his face buried deep between the thighs of the woman he was feeding on, drawing blood from the thick artery in her leg. Rory reached for the head of the vampire opposite him, and her dagger cut viciously into his throat. His strangled cry alerted his friend, who raised his head in confusion.

Blood, much less than there should have been, sprayed across his face. He cried out and raised his arm to his head, trying to wipe it out of his eyes. Rory placed her boot on the bench beside her dead target and leapt swiftly over the table. She tackled the blinded vampire and he landed on his back with her on his chest.

Both of his arms had flown up protectively over his eyes. With a growl, Rory slid her dagger under his jaw, straight up, driving the blade into his brain. She pulled it out just in time to see the vampire at the alchemy station charging a spell in his hand.

There was a loud, explosive zapping sound from behind Aldric and Rory. Purple-white lightning blew the vampire off his feet with a grunt. He slammed into the alchemy station, hit the ground, and didn't move. Smoke curled in thin fingers from his corpse.

Aldric turned to see Serana standing on the overhang above them, electricity crackling in her palm. "Safe to say we're done with stealth?"

Rory nodded to Aldric, who drew his greatsword. They could already hear raised voices from deeper within the cave, the others having been alerted by the sound of Serana's magic.

A single tunnel led from the hall into the other rooms of the cave. Aldric waited against the wall next to it, sword raised. His wolf, having sensed the blood spilled and the adrenaline in his body, had filled the other side of his mind. It was like seeing through two different sets of eyes.

Two vampires burst through the opening of the tunnel. They both drew up short, gawking at the scene in front of them.

The smaller one on the left gasped. "What in—"

"Hello, boys," Serana announced loudly from her perch on the stone balcony. She stood casually, a hand resting on her hip. "I've been looking for you."

Aldric lunged forward. His greatsword slid through the lower back of the vampire on the left like he was cutting through spider's silk. The blade emerged from his chest, and the force of his blow lifted the vampire off his feet, his spine bowing inward, hands scrabbling at the empty air.

Rory struck at the second one. She grabbed him by the hair and jerked him backward. He fought for a second, managing to turn himself around in her grip so that he faced her. She never lost her grasp on him, and she tightened her hold on him so that he ended bent over with his head firmly trapped in her underarm area. She yelled out with effort. There was a crack, and he dropped motionlessly to the floor.

She sank low to the floor, listening. Serana leapt off the overhang and landed on the table. She walked along the length of it, stepping over the now-cold body of the victim they'd been feeding from, and gracefully dropped to the ground next to them.

"Quiet," she observed.

"They know we're here." Aldric used the tunic of the vampire at his feet to wipe the thick blood from his blade.

Rory sheathed her dagger, not bothering to clean it. She drew both of her swords, and her fingers danced along the hilts as she adjusted her grip. "This tunnel is a tactical advantage for them."

"It is, and they'll be ready to do what you just did," Serana pointed out.

Rory gently laid the blade in her right hand at her feet, and pushed her hand outward. Instead of the flame atronach Aldric expected, a spectral wolf appeared in the stone hall before them. It scented the air eagerly, and looked behind her at Rory before loping away from them.

She charged after it, and the sounds of a surprised scream filtered back to them from ahead. Aldric was right on Rory's heels as she ran into the next cavern, rolling smoothly to put herself well away from the tunnel. Her familiar had taken down a vampire in the room, and the glowing wolf growled viciously as it savaged its target's throat.

The vampire that must have been flanking the other side of the tunnel had darted after Rory. She was facing her, swords ready, and the vampire woman raised her hand. Red energy hit Rory in the chest as she circled her.

The vampire lost the arm attached to the hand casting the spell, and she buckled with a shriek. Blood spurted in a limp kind of way from her shoulder, and then her head rolled to join the arm on the floor.

The man the wolf had been attacking had managed to fight the familiar off, and was staggering toward the room's exit, deeper into the cave. Before Aldric could move after him, Serana sent a spike of ice directly into the middle of his back. He hit the floor hard, mid-stride.

Rory grinned. "Damn."

"I've had a lot of practice."

Aldric moved ahead, placing his back flat against the wall of the tunnel exiting the room. He turned his head to the side and darted a quick look into it. "I think this leads to a much larger chamber. I can smell cool, fresh air."

Rory walked to him to confirm his suspicions. "I didn't expect his stronghold to be so small."

Serana shrugged a slim shoulder. "Marcus may be powerful, but he's still going behind my father's back. To set up a grandiose space for himself would be too obvious, even for him."

"Do you think we can expect many more?" Rory asked her.

"Unlikely. We've taken out seven of them so far. You said your friend Karliah killed Taluril, and you took care of Dolf and Petyr and Larissa. We haven't faced anyone particularly strong tonight." Serana arched a brow. "If he possessed any powerful followers, he would have sent them out as a display of strength."

"Would it not make more sense to send out the disposable fighters to gauge his enemy's strength?" Aldric pointed out.

"It would," she agreed, "but we wouldn't be standing here discussing this if he had another trick up his sleeve, so to speak."

Satisfied with that, Rory pushed onward. Aldric followed her, muscles tensed for another attack.

Marcus was, amazingly enough, alone when they entered the final chamber of the cave. He was as Brynjolf had described; a reedy Nord of average height, with a bumped nose the result of a long-ago break. His hair was a light brown, pulled back from his face to leave the rest of it hanging free to his shoulders. He looked utterly unremarkable. If not for his eyes and the pallor of his skin, Aldric could have passed him a dozen times in a crowd without thinking he was capable of extraordinary violence.

The room he stood in appeared to be his living space—an ornate coffin rested upright against the far wall, but he also had a lavish bed next to it. He had placed throw rugs and hung tapestries on the wall. There was a set of rusty shackles bolted into the wall near his bed.

Serana gazed around his quarters. "Impressive. Hardly even looks like a cave."

"What is this, Serana?" Marcus hissed. "You've gone too far, even for being Harkon's daughter. You invade my home, kill my associates. Have you lost your mind?"

Her laugh tinkled musically throughout the stone room. "I'm sure my father would be _very_ interested to hear of your side projects, Marcus," she said, her voice amused. "Aren't you supposed to be working diligently to help him fulfill his prophecy like a good little lackey? And instead, here you are, hunting down a woman and a child."

Marcus' eyes flicked to Rory. "I knew you looked familiar," he spat. "You have your father's eyes."

"That's what my mother used to say," Rory replied.

"Your father was a filthy traitor, to procreate with your whore of a mother."

Aldric gave a low whistle between his teeth. "I would not recommend saying things like that to my mate," he advised. "Your death will be quicker if you're polite."

The vampire's eyes rested on him. "You're another one, aren't you? One of those mutts? I can smell you from here."

Aldric grinned when Rory moved closer to Marcus, and the vampire visibly flinched around the eyes. He pulled out a silver sword when she got within a few feet of him.

Rory tensed, and the two stared each other down for a long moment. She feinted to his left, and he slashed out at her. Dodging the blow, she grabbed his arm, lightning-quick, and swiftly broke it at the elbow. His sword fell to the ground, muffled by the rich carpeting it landed on.

Manipulating him by his broken arm, she grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. Strangely, he didn't fight much—only watched her through his glowing eyes.

"Have you accepted your death, Marcus?" Rory spoke to him quietly. Her thumb absently caressed his jaw. "Is that why you offer no struggle?"

His mouth worked for a second, and she loosened her grip on his neck. "I know what you are capable of. I have lived a long life, and I have earned unfathomable riches and the unswerving fear of all around me. You couldn't possibly know what that is like. If you wish to end my existence, you will do so, but I'll be damned if I will resist you like the fly fights the spider."

"You impress me." Rory released him and stepped back. "And you confuse me. For over a hundred years, you've been fueled by your hatred to kill me and my family, and now you give up so easily."

Marcus rubbed at his throat. "Have you never seen absolute bravery from one about to meet their end?"

"'Absolute bravery?'" she repeated softly. "This is cowardice."

He raised his chin. "How can you speak to me about cowardice when you and your abomination of a family have done nothing but flee into the night for a century?"

Rory's voice shook with suppressed rage. "I came into this world an innocent. I want to live. I _deserve_ to live. My _sister_ deserves to live."

Marcus smiled. "You may kill me this night, but this does not end with me. With my death, you hope to cut the head from the snake, but you have no idea."

Another silent moment passed while she regarded him. "Before you pass on to whatever nightmare awaits you, you will tell me everything."

The vampire straightened up and threw his head back, a low, dark laugh filling the room. "My child. Innocent indeed. Molag Bal will welcome me when I finally take my last breath. You cannot frighten me with death. I embrace it."

She turned her head to the side, like a predatory bird observing her prey. "Marcus, what makes you think I threaten you with death? Death will be my gift to you when I'm finished. You will be weeping for it before the end."

His eyes flicked back and forth rapidly as he looked into hers. "What are you talking about?"

Instead of answering him, she pulled something out of the satchel at her hip. Aldric squinted in the dim lighting to see it. The object seemed to be a thin cable, catching the candlelight as she showed it to him. On either end of it was fastened a grip for her hands.

"Steel thread, spun together to create a wire capable of vastly increased tensile strength," she murmured, as if she were lecturing someone. "I will be able to remove your fingers one by one with this with a relatively low amount of effort on my end. You'll be able to feel your bones being severed a hairs-breadth at a time—after it has chewed its way through the flesh and delicate muscles surrounding them, of course. The process is incredibly slow, and the pain and pressure of your veins being constricted and halting blood flow will be enormous. The loss of each of your fingers will feel nearly like an incredible relief."

Marcus was already quite pale, but Aldric could tell that his heart rate had sped up. The pulse in his neck jumped.

Rory pulled out a small canvas packet and laid it on the bed. She unrolled the material to reveal a long pouch of small metal tools, all sharp, all wicked-looking. Selecting one, she tested its pointy end with a fingertip before holding it up. "After that, if you haven't lost consciousness, I think I will use this to peel away the membrane of your right eye. If I am careful, I think I can cleanly pull the nerve from your brain and remove your eye from its socket without you dying. What do you think?"

He lunged at her then. Both Aldric and Serana rushed forward to subdue him. Marcus fought for a long time, screaming and thrashing on the floor desperately. He reeked of fear and terror—it came off him in waves, washed over Aldric's face as he wrestled with him.

In the end, they finally hauled him upright and attached his wrists to the shackles bolted into the wall. He sagged within them, as if his knees could no longer find the strength to support his weight.

Panting, he blew his mussed hair out his face. "Wait—I can tell you many things! I have access to valuable information!"

"I know you do," Rory responded patiently, busy with her tools on the bed. "I will hear it all."

"You…you have dreams, don't you?" he ground out, his eyes wild.

She paused in her movements and looked up at him.

Nodding too quickly, he spoke again. "You have dreams of the future, but they're broken, aren't they? They come true, but only parts of them, yes?"

Rory simply looked at him.

"You do. I can see it in your face." Marcus fought to stand as straight as his shoulders would allow him to. "I can tell. I know another who—who said you possessed the ability. He—"

She cut him off abruptly, shoving a bloody rag into his mouth. He choked and gagged as she forced his jaw open to allow the cloth. When she pulled her hand back, he tried to work it out, but he couldn't.

Rory looked over her shoulder at Aldric and Serana. "If you don't want to see this, I suggest you leave now."

Serana looked at him. "I'll stay."

Aldric left.


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N:** Yikes. I can't believe this is the last week for "Bounty." I'll be uploading a few times this week. On Friday, I will upload the last three chapters all at once, because they're meant to be read together and I would never make you wait for the ending. On Friday I will also upload a letter to all of my readers on my blog, which can be found on my profile. In the (likely) event that I write a sequel for "Bounty", you can add me to your Author's Alert list so that you can be notified when it happens.

Smut warning for this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 44**

Sometime during the night, Marcus had been able to work free the gag from his mouth. The sounds that came out of his mouth made the fine hairs on the back of Aldric's neck rise. He shrieked over and over until his voice became hoarse, and then still he tried. The dry, pained, hopeless sounds he was making as dawn approached made Aldric want to march in there himself and end it all. He sounded almost like an infant at times.

Even Serana came out to join him in the main hall after an hour or two. Aldric could smell that she had fresh blood spattered on her somewhere.

"I'll say one thing, and one thing only about what's going on in there," she told Aldric, her eyes intense. "I'm relieved that Rory is on our side."

He gritted his teeth and looked away. Rory deserved justice, and she deserved the finality of ending her torment herself, but he wished she had just given Marcus a clean death. He would never tell her that she was wrong to do what she was doing now—no one could, unless they had endured a lifetime of terror and loss at the vampire's hands—but it disturbed him that she was capable of this.

"Is she getting anything from him?" he asked Serana.

She gave him a slow blink. "Everything he knew that is of any use to us, he gave to her in the first half hour. He has nothing left. He hasn't spoken coherent words for hours."

That was almost enough to make him go to Rory and force her to stop, but a sound from within the cave stopped him. Then Aldric noted that it wasn't a sound, necessarily, but the absence of sound. It was silent.

A moment passed, and then Rory emerged from the tunnel. Blood speckled her face like a bird's egg, and some of her hair was damp with it, as if it had caught the spray of an artery. Her face was blank, eyes unreadable.

"He's dead, then?" Serana asked bluntly.

Rory nodded.

Aldric watched her, keeping his face the picture of calm. "What did he tell you?"

"Marcus was the leader, and now that we've killed him and all of his lieutenants, the rest of the group will scatter to the wind," Rory said. Aldric listened carefully to her voice, but it was smooth and steady. "Before he went, he said that someone at Snowpoint has betrayed us."

"_Snowpoint?_" Aldric repeated, stunned. "Who?"

She shook her head. One of the damp tendrils of her hair swayed with the movement and stuck to her neck. When it fell away, it left a faint, reddish smear on her skin. "I could not get that from him."

Serana looked back and forth between them. "Snowpoint is the pack your mother was from, correct?"

"Yes, and the one we've stayed with for the past month or so," Aldric said. "I…we trust them. We've fought for them."

"It has to be Kyrr," Rory muttered quietly.

"Kyrr?" Aldric blinked. "No. Not him. Amon would be more likely—"

"I don't like Amon any more than you do, Aldric," she cut him off, "but he's simply not smart enough to be involved with this. He's a tool for men like Marcus."

"That may be true," Aldric allowed, "but why do you think it's Kyrr? That doesn't make sense."

"He has the most to lose, Aldric." Rory closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. "He has his pack and his family. If Marcus or any other vampire approached him and threatened him, he would make a deal to protect his people. What do I matter to him, anyway? What is one woman, one child's, death in the face of dozens?"

"That is a cold kind of logic, Rory," he argued. "Even if Kyrr was capable of that, there is no way he could look either of us in the eyes and pretend to be our friend. Kyrr doesn't have that in him, that…" He struggled for words. "That ability to be another person. He's too honest, too simple. He can't have that kind of corruption in him."

"Trust me," Serana chimed in, her voice dry, "if there's anything I've learned in my long life, it's that people never stop shocking you with their ability to deceive."

"For vampires, that might be true, but not for people like Kyrr." Aldric refused to accept it. "He…"

"He's a father, and a leader, and a mate to a woman he loves very much." Rory sounded tired. "He's responsible for many innocent lives. That kind of love is dangerous, because it empowers you to do the unthinkable. _Nothing_ is too far when you have that kind of love in you."

Aldric looked away, trying very hard not to respond to that.

"What?" Rory snapped, her head coming up from the wall. "What are you thinking?"

He thinned his lips into a hard line as he glanced at her. "Is that what you were thinking while you were in there with Marcus? That your love empowered you to do that to him?"

Rory narrowed her eyes. "What else could it be? If Lilly weren't—"

"How about hatred?" he suggested. "How about years and _years_ worth of anger and fear? Did you—" He cut himself off, turning around to give her his back.

He heard her step closer to him. "Did I what?"

"Did you enjoy that?" Aldric asked her.

She didn't reply quickly enough. "I didn't get pleasure from it, if that's what you imply."

"I think it's time to leave." Serana's soft voice broke through the tension. "The sun is up now, but Marcus may have thralls or other human associates that could return here."

"Serana is right," Aldric snapped. "I cannot stand the smell in here anymore."

He made for the exit without looking at Rory. As the two women followed him, he could almost feel Rory's uncertainty. He didn't want to pin emotions on her that she wasn't feeling, but to him it seemed that even she had realized she had passed some kind of boundary.

When he emerged from the cave and hit the fresh air, he realized just how true his earlier statement had been. He filled his lungs with several deep breaths of the cold, clear air. Fresh snow had fallen during the night, and the smell of it washed away the old scents of blood, undead flesh, and the dankness of the cave.

Serana took the lead, her deep hood pulled over her head to shield her eyes from the morning sunlight, and walked through the snow to find the road again. Aldric could sense she was putting distance between himself and Rory to give them a semblance of privacy. He appreciated it, even if he knew she would still be able to hear everything.

Rory caught up to him and matched his stride as they followed Serana. For a few beats, neither of them spoke, but then he could see her looking at him out of the corner of his eye. "Do you still want to be with me?"

Shocked, he stopped walking and turned to her. "What?"

She drew up and faced him. "After what I did. Do you still want to be with me?"

"What you did disturbed me. It sickens me that you could not only do it in the first place, but that you could do it for hours without stopping even after you got what we needed from him," he said.

Rory watched him, her eyes huge in her pale face.

"But I understand why you did it," he continued. "I understand that this was a hundred years of pent-up emotion unleashing on Marcus. I can't judge you until I can put myself in your place, because I have no idea how that feels."

She looked at her boots. "Thank you for saying that. There are things about me that even I do not understand sometimes."

He took her hand. "We can help each other understand those little things."

Rory studied his face. "You don't have any of those struggles in you, Aldric. You are the most honorable, truly good person I have ever met."

Aldric looked up at the sky. It made him uncomfortable when she said things like that to him. Sometimes, he felt like an impostor in his own life. If he watched a man—just like the man he'd been only a few years ago—be handed the power of what it meant to be Dragonborn, he would not have placed gold on the side of good triumphing over evil.

He squeezed her hand in his instead of replying to that. "Rory, when we visit Snowpoint, you cannot retaliate against Kyrr. Everything you said in the cave is a reason against hurting him. If he truly did this to us—"

"I understand, Aldric." Her free hand came up to rest against his cheek. "I don't feel anger toward Kyrr. If we have ended this with Marcus, then it's over. We're not part of Kyrr's pack, and we don't have to deal with him. He can lead Snowpoint in peace from now on."

Aldric stroked her wrist. Part of him was very relieved that she felt that way. He couldn't have allowed her to kill the alpha, even if he had betrayed them. "And if it's not Kyrr?"

The warmth of her palm dropped from his face. "I will decide on my actions when we figure that out."

* * *

As Aldric had promised, he returned to Whiterun with Rory to find Aela and Farkas. Serana opted to wait for them in Breezehome when they visited Jorrvaskr. The city was as it always seemed to be—full of hardworking people going about their days, content with their lives and what they were doing. Held up against the events of the recent pas, it was almost surreal to see old friends like Adrianne, who had the same teasing questions and jests for him.

Aela was fiercely excited. "Farkas will be glad to show you his training."

The man in question was slightly less exuberant. "I'm ready to fight, as always."

"And I'm sure you're not looking forward to this at all, are you?" Aldric asked the huntress, his brow raised.

Her smile was slightly frightening. "I have thought of little else for weeks, Harbinger."

Aldric's humor faded around the edges. "Aela, we don't know what we will face. It may not come to battle."

She looked unsurprised. "Rory has told me that."

"Has she?" At the moment, Rory was downstairs in his quarters. She'd only had a moment alone with Aela before he made it into Jorrvaskr. "What else has she told you?"

"Only that the alpha is her likely suspect."

"But not mine," Aldric clarified. "I don't believe he's capable of this. And if he is, we are not going to pursue any form of justice. Rory has already promised me he will come to no harm."

"And if the alpha is innocent?" Aela pressed. "Will there be justice to the guilty then?"

"I'm not sure. We have not decided on that." Aldric sighed deeply. "I suppose that will be decided when we get there."

"Is the man she brought with her not long ago another suspect?" Aela asked bluntly.

"He may be," Aldric allowed.

"Who else?"

"I don't know." He was beginning to get frustrated with his lack of answers. "It may be someone we don't know at all. Vampires are capable of creating thralls for themselves, someone that is forced to complete their orders. It would make sense to have someone inconspicuous in the ranks, wouldn't it?"

Farkas sounded curious. "A spy."

"And nothing at all will happen to the betrayer?" Aela's eyes flashed.

"I'm sure Kyrr will be interested in his own form of justice," Aldric countered.

The red-haired warrior put her hands to her temples and turned away, frowning. "This is beginning to anger me. We leave tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes. Please get a full night of rest, both of you." Aldric looked first at Farkas, and then Aela. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sure I will heavily regret what I'm about to say, but it must be said nevertheless—the Companions are used to fighting as a team, and not as soldiers in battle looking to a leader."

Aela interrupted. "We are aware that this is different. We follow you."

"And _only_ me," Aldric stressed. "You do not look to Rory as an example. You do not listen to orders she gives. If she tells you to do something, or commands you to join in something she is doing, you are not to do it."

Farkas frowned. "Even if she is outnumbered or injured?"

"No," he amended. "I'm not asking you to stand aside and watch her get hurt. I am asking you to ignore her in anything else. If you are unsure about something, come to me."

He noticed Aela looked at him with slanted eyes. "Your mate would be extremely unhappy if she heard you going behind her back like this."

"Yes, she would," Aldric said, giving her a hard look. "And she is not going to hear anything of it."

Farkas put both hands up in a defensive gesture. "Don't look at me."

"There are no alphas in the bond between mates, Harbinger," Aela pointed out accusingly. "You cannot try to be the only voice of authority in your relationship."

"Aela." He narrowed his eyes at her. "I am not trying to take her freedoms and choices away now that I'm bonded to her. Nor do I believe that I'm more qualified for this role. Rory is not herself at the moment, and I worry that she will make decisions that she might regret."

She turned her head to the side. "You worry about a specific situation. What is it?"

Aldric blew out a long breath. "I worry she'll go after someone who may not be to blame. She is angry, so very angry. If the person Marcus mentioned is indeed a thrall, we can't retaliate. They have no choice. They're victims of an attack."

"You are sure you're not just another man thinking women are irrational creatures, slaves to their emotions?" Aela crossed her arms and looked seriously at him.

He snorted. "You know just as well as I do that every person is capable of being swayed by emotion in times of high stress. Vilkas and I are both very male, and we slaughtered more than a dozen people inside a fort, blinded by rage. _That_ is the kind of thing I worry about with Rory."

Aela looked away. He had no doubt that she remembered exactly what he was talking about, when he and Vilkas took revenge inside Driftshade. The huntress's silence was most likely due to her belief that nothing they did that day was wrong.

Farkas put a hand on Aldric's shoulder. "We follow you, and you alone. Right, Shield-Sister?"

Aela, to her credit, didn't stumble from the rather hard nudge of Farkas' elbow into her side. "Yes. We follow you."

* * *

Rory had removed all her armor and was sitting on the bed in his quarters, cross-legged. She hunched over her dagger, painstakingly using a tool to scrape dirt and dried blood from the ornate carvings in the blade.

She didn't look up as he walked in and closed the door behind him. "Did you eat?"

"No." More filth collected on the cloth in her lap. "I'm not hungry. I haven't been feeling well lately."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rory rolled her eyes up to peer at him through the curtain of her hair. "I'm tired, Aldric. Tired to the bone. It affects my appetite."

"I'm not surprised." He folded his arms over his chest. "It's those dreams you're having, isn't it?"

She didn't look up at him again, though the movements of her hands stilled. "Don't let his words affect you. Marcus is dead. He's gone."

"He was right, though." Aldric let the tone of his voice show that he wasn't going to drop this. "I sleep next to you every night."

Rory gently slid the dagger back into its sheath. "What have I been doing? Have I screamed?"

He felt his frown soften. "No. You don't scream, or cry. Your entire body tenses, and sometimes you shake. If I move you, you make soft sounds like you're afraid."

Rory looked away, her fingers picking at the blankets. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know…for interrupting your sleep."

"Don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Put up walls again." He stared down at her, but she didn't meet his eyes. "I have worked so hard to get past them."

She was quiet.

Aldric sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to her, trying to fight down his feeling of despair. He didn't want to win the battle they'd been waging, only to lose her. Somehow, the closer they got to victory, the further she pulled away.

He felt the mattress shift, and then her warmth at his back. Rory hesitated only a moment before winding her arms around his shoulders. Her lips brushed the corner of his jaw.

"Do you feel it?" Her hand rested over the left part of his chest, over his heart.

"Feel what?"

"My bond. My love."

"I don't feel anything from you. Not lately. You have been withdrawing ever since we met with Serana," he said, opting for full honesty. "I know that the bond is supposed to be some powerful, invisible connection, deeper even than marriage. But I go through most days wondering how you truly feel about me, if you love me at all."

She exhaled against his neck, the cold tip of her nose brushing his skin. "I don't know if I can love the way most others can—giving fully of myself," she admitted. "But I love you the only way that I can. Besides Lilly, you are the most important person to me. That scares me."

"Why?" he asked, twisting around to face her. "Why does it scare you?"

"Because I care about you in ways similar to how I care about Lilly—I want to protect you, and make sure you're happy and satisfied and that you have everything you need, everything I can give you."

"I feel the same way about you, Rory," he assured her. "You need to trust in that."

"And that is exactly the problem," she replied, looking into his eyes. "That trust feels alien and frightening. I have learned, through a hundred and twelve years of living, that everyone I have trusted in and loved has died. This is something very new to me. Please have patience with me. I'm sure over time this will change."

He felt awful at those words. "Rory, I'm not disappointed with you. You've said things I've wanted to hear for what feels like a long time. Thank you."

She gave him a tiny smile, and it flashed on her face before disappearing.

"Can you tell me about these dreams, please?" he asked.

Her frown came back. "I don't want to talk about them. Speaking aloud of your fears give them power."

"Who told you that?"

Her cheeks flushed delicately. "It's something my mother used to say."

"I need to know about this."

She exhaled heavily, and a tendril of hair flew away from her face with her breath. "I have had one dream—a nightmare, actually—that partially came true. It only occurred a few times. I tried to ignore it."

"Can you describe it to me?"

Rory looked down. "I dreamed that I was back in my home in Falkreath. It was on fire. I was standing in the middle of a circle untouched by the flames. Then I saw a shifted vampire come toward me; the fire parted for him. He bit my throat…" She cleared her throat, and blushed again. "The bite was both pain and pleasure. Then he picks up Lilly from the ground—I can't tell if she's dead or not. He drops her into the fire. Then the bite on my neck begins to hurt, very badly."

Aldric was quiet, thinking. "And you think that partially came true?"

"Not specifically, no," she said. "I feel that it was metaphorical for the attack on the Hall."

"That could be true, I suppose. What other dreams have you had?"

"Just one. It doesn't make any sense. I think this one might be just a simple nightmare." She shrugged.

"Can you describe it?"

Her eyes narrowed just a fraction. "I don't want to."

"Fine." Aldric let that go. "How did Marcus know about this? He said someone else had told him about it, before you gagged him."

"He was desperate, Aldric," she pointed out. "It's not uncommon for people to have dreams that somehow end up coming true. It could be argued that maybe things come true _because_ of dreams people have had."

"Yes," he said slowly, "but most people don't have aunts that were seers."

"I don't know how much I believe in things like that," Rory argued. "Marcus did not bring it up again the entire time I was in that room with him. He also never told me who was at Snowpoint. It was as if he were afraid of what he'd already said. When we travel there, we can have our questions answered."

Frustrated, he brushed his hair from his eyes. "I don't want to stop talking about the dreams just yet. I—"

Her brows shot up. "I don't care if you don't want to stop talking about the dreams. I do. This is over."

With a loud, aggravated groan, he bent forward and rested his head on her bare leg, his hand encircling her ankle. He felt her fingers bury themselves in his hair a split second before she yanked him away from her.

They locked eyes for a moment. He leaned forward and pulled her into his lap. At first, she avoided looking down at his upturned face and request for a kiss. He ran his hands over her smooth thighs, letting the roughness of his hands tickle her.

Rory shifted and looked down to slap him away, and he reached up quickly, capturing her face in his hands. She kissed him back slowly at first, and then opened her mouth for him when his tongue sought entrance. He wasn't sure how far she was willing to go until he felt her hands pulling at his belt buckle.

Aldric helped her undress him, and she bit at his right nipple the second it was revealed. A growl trickled from his lips as her teeth clamped down on his skin, struggling to find purchase because of how tightly it was stretched over his muscle.

She pushed him onto his back and settled herself astride him. Her favorite position was riding him like this, but she would allow others if he was able to dominate her. As she distracted herself with licking her way down his abdomen, he suddenly grabbed her and flipped them, rolling so that he was on top.

Her hair sprawled out on the bed behind her like a black sheet. She wriggled, trying to free it from underneath her. Grinning, he rose up so that he was on his knees. Aldric seized her smallclothes with one hand and ripped them away.

"Ass!" she hissed up at him. She picked up the scraps of cloth and examined them.

Before she could say anything else, he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her to him. He spread his knees so that the angle would work, and then took himself in his hand to guide his length to her entrance.

Rory went still, her head tilted up so that she could see. Watching him push himself inside of her clearly did something for her. When he had nearly given her all of him, she dropped her head back with a low moan.

He held her securely by her hips while he gave her a few shallow thrusts. She rose up on her elbows to watch again. Aldric could tell she wanted to roll over; she was also very partial to having him take her from behind. He could be harder and rougher from that angle without hurting her.

Digging his fingers into her skin, he panted, "I want to see your face."

She arched her back, answering him with a moan as she pushed herself forward onto him. He stopped teasing her, and set a faster pace.

Only a few moments had passed before she suddenly grabbed fistfuls of the blankets under her. He watched curiously for a second, wondering if she was about to climax already.

He stopped wondering when her brows drew together sharply, and he felt the first wave of delicate shuddering around him. Rory opened her mouth, and he quickly dove forward, kissing her to muffle the scream that was about to erupt.

He was half-successful. Her nails dug into the muscle of his shoulders around his neck, and she whimpered into his chest. When he thrust again, she cried out more loudly.

She was still tightening around him when he pulled back to look into her eyes. "Should I stop for a moment?"

Rory shook her head, her eyes heavy-lidded. He pulled out of her for a second as he shifted his position, and she frowned at him. "What are you doing?"

"Can't stay on my knees like that for too long," he grunted, kicking the pillow near his foot away.

She rolled her eyes. "Old man."

In response to that, he moved forward and entered her again. She gasped when he slid into her, and he settled himself over her gently. "Look who's talking."

Rory tugged on a lock of his hair sharply, and he nipped at her wrist. He took his time, savoring the feeling of her around him as he thrust into her. When he felt himself getting close, he bowed his back and managed to take one of her nipples into his mouth while he continued the motion of his hips.

"I think I can make you come again," he growled against her skin, wet from his mouth.

"I don't—_aah_." Her voice rose an octave as his fingers found what they were looking for between her legs. "Right there, just like that, right there, right there, right there…"

Aldric didn't bother to quiet her when he brought her again. He heard the blankets ripping under her hands as she pulled at them. She bucked underneath him, and he had to hold her down to keep himself inside of her. While he fought her, her motions abruptly brought him to his own peak, and she obligingly went still when she heard him yell.

Rory looked up at him, her hands pinned near her head under his. "You are flawless."

He laughed. His hair hung in his face, and he was covered in sweat. Still breathing heavily, he managed to kiss near her lips before lowering himself to lie against her chest.

"We can't fix every spat we have with sex," he panted.

"If it's like this every time," she responded, combing his hair back from his face, "yes, we can."


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

The pressure she'd been feeling about the dreams had momentarily lifted after confessing to Aldric about the way they bothered her. Rory had thought her nightmares might come to an end after discussing them, and because she had started making a conscious effort to trust him.

That was not the case.

It was almost as if the more she allowed herself to relax and open up, the worse they got. They happened almost every night, sometimes even twice a night. All variations of the same exact theme, without fail: finding the injured person in the tunnel.

Rory had come believe that the injured person was her. She had no clues other than the vaguely familiar smell, and the very long, dark hair, but it was an instinctual feeling. She didn't dare tell Aldric, though, for fear that it would make him want to call off what they were about to do.

Like the dream with the shape-shifted vampire, she wondered what parts of it were only fictional and what parts would come true. She wondered if she could change the outcome now that she knew what would happen.

If Serana had still been with them, she might have considered talking to her about it. But she had chosen to go back to Fort Dawnguard. She'd told Aldric that she would wait for him there, wait for him to fulfill his end of the bargain—that he would help her with what her father was doing.

As they got closer to Snowpoint, Rory had worried about how they were going to approach the pack. She had worried that getting as far as the watchtower where Kaspar was would be considered hostile.

As it turned out, that had already been thought of. Before they even approached the foot of the mountain, a solitary figure emerged from their position sitting on the ground.

The man was dressed in the typical style seen in Snowpoint, animal hide and furs draping him. He looked directly at Rory, face devoid of expression, and stated, "You are forbidden to approach the pack."

"I know," she said. "I don't need to come up. I just need to speak with Kyrr."

"You are not allowed within our territory," the pack member admonished her. "He may allow you," he said to Aldric, "but I will have to check."

"Thank you," Aldric told the man. "We will wait here."

The pack member retreated, watching them, until he reached the path going up the mountain. He took off at a jog. After a moment or two, a different person came down the path. Rory squinted. Was that Kyrr already?

It was Kaspar. He walked to the group quickly, looking over his shoulder now and then like he was afraid of being spotted. "What are you doing here, Rory?"

"It's a long story, Kaspar," she sighed.

Surprisingly, she got a pleasant feeling from seeing him again, and she realized that he had become a friend to her. He looked much the same as he had when they left; long, dark blond hair bound behind him, thin brows arching over silver eyes.

He looked behind her, where Aela and Farkas stood. They hung back, several yards away, but their scent still carried with the breeze. "This is not good, my friends. Kyrr will see that you have returned as a strong pack of your own now. He will treat you as a threat." The scout sounded worried.

"Can you speak to him for us?" Rory asked him.

He looked over his shoulder again. "No. I have been forbidden from taking watch duty. Kyrr knows that I am fond of the two of you."

Aldric frowned. "How have things been since we've left, Kaspar?"

He sighed. "Things have been going poorly. I have never seen Kyrr come to violence before, but he attacked Amon when he came back. Amon has been drinking very heavily, and spends most of his time drunk. Seraph has also been off. There has been turmoil amongst the rest of us."

It hurt Rory to hear that and know that it had been because of her. "I'm sorry, Kaspar. I hope to be able to fix that."

"Kyrr may attack you as well, Rory." Kaspar looked worried. "He has been so different."

She exchanged a look with Aldric. Before they could speak further, the other pack member returned.

He came up behind Kaspar, glaring at the scout. "You are not supposed to be here."

Kaspar looked into first Rory's, and then Aldric's eyes. He turned and left without another word.

"My alpha has said that he requires a night to think about this," the man told Aldric.

"An entire night." Rory repeated. "Just to think about speaking with us."

Aldric, perhaps sensing her growing frustration, placed his hands on her shoulders from behind. Instead of irritating her, the touch soothed her. She blinked and rubbed her forehead, pulling in her anger.

"Fine. We'll make camp at the foot of the mountain."

Looking unimpressed, the man turned back and climbed up the path to the watchtower again. They walked back to the two waiting Companions; Farkas was calm, while Aela looked agitated.

"Why do they not allow you an audience?" she asked Rory.

"Like we discussed, this is because of my actions when I took Amon from the pack. Kyrr has lost trust in me, but the other pack member seemed to indicate he still thought favorably of Aldric," Rory answered.

Her brow rose. "The one with the long hair?"

"No, the other one. I've never met him before."

"Who was the long-haired one?" Aela pressed.

Aldric grinned beside her. "Who, Kaspar?"

"That is his name?"

"You don't have to worry about him," Aldric assured her. "He's a friend."

Judging from the look on Aela's face, Rory didn't think the huntress was concerned about Kaspar. Rather, she suspected her interest was of another kind. The thought made her smile.

* * *

That night, they made a small campsite in the snow. Aldric had constructed the fire, managing to return from a brief trip with an armful of scavenged wood. Aela had taken it upon herself to hunt, and he'd joined her.

Farkas sat on his bedroll, legs crossed, with his arms resting on his knees. He stared into the flames, which reflected prettily in his silver eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" Rory asked him, nudging his knee with her boot.

He looked up from the fire like he was breaking from a reverie. "My brother."

"Oh." None of them had even seen Vilkas before they departed. He had stayed well away from them.

"I respect his choices," he said easily, "but I wish he was here with me."

"I understand."

She could feel him looking at her. "You don't hold it against him, do you?"

"No." Rory shook her head. "I don't hold it against him. I hope that he doesn't hold this against _you_."

Farkas smiled widely. He had a face that was made for it; his full lips stretched over his teeth, revealing hidden dimples, and his eyes crinkled. "Vilkas is a grump, but he gets over it. He can't stay angry with me for too long." His deep voice held an edge of chuckling.

Rory smiled back at him. "I think Aldric would say the same of me. He has a talent for irritating me, but there's something about him. I can't hold out for long against him."

"Of course. You're mated, after all," Farkas pointed out.

She shrugged. "I suppose."

"What is that like?" he asked her unexpectedly.

She looked up from the fire and saw that his face was serious again. "The bond?"

He nodded.

She hesitated. "You've never been around a mated pair before?"

Farkas shook his head. "I think Aela and Skjor were, but they were very private. Kodlak was unhappy with being a werewolf and did not like us to bring it up."

Aldric had told her briefly of the struggles Kodlak had gone through before he died, and how he'd brought the twins into his beliefs. She'd never met the man, of course, but she felt slight resentment against him for influencing Vilkas and Farkas. His newfound beliefs had sent Vilkas into a years-long tailspin, and Farkas was left confused and alone because he generally did what his brother did.

"It's hard to describe," she said at last. "I feel a connection to him that is very real. Almost as if he were attached to me by a long, invisible rope. Sometimes I can sense what he's feeling. I feel a drive to protect him, and make him happy. Being near him is a physical sensation of…rightness, utter belonging."

He leaned forward, his brows slightly drawn together, eyes intense. "And he feels that for you as well?"

"Yes. It goes both ways."

"That does not sound much different from how I have heard others describe love," he ruminated.

"I suppose it doesn't, except for the fact that our wolves are bonded as well."

He was silent for a moment, and then spoke without looking up. "Do you think I will not be welcome in Sovngarde when I die?"

Rory blinked in surprise. Farkas certainly had a propensity for asking the hard questions. "Are you strong in your faith, Farkas?"

He lifted one massive shoulder in a half-shrug. "As much as any Nord, I guess. I don't worship, but I have belief."

"What did Kodlak have to say about a werewolf's death?" she inquired gently.

His finger pushed at a small pebble in the snow. "He told us that each Nord who had the beast blood would not spend the afterlife in Sovngarde, the way we each want. That we would be dragged into Hircine's Hunting Grounds and be forced to stay there for eternity."

Rory watched him play with the rock. "How did he know that?"

"Aldric let us look at his journal after he died. He said he had a dream showing that all of the Harbingers of old were welcomed into Sovngarde, until they came to the man that made the bargain with the witches to give us the beast blood." He swallowed. "Every Harbinger after that is taken by Hircine."

She thought for a moment about the best way to answer. Farkas was clearly ambivalent about his wolf, and she sensed that he might be swayed by what she said next, whether it was positive or negative. It was a situation she was familiar with by now—raising Lilly often presented encounters like this. Farkas was not a child, and he was not slow-witted like Vilkas or anyone else might portray, but he gave trust easily.

"I can understand how dreams might give someone pause," she began slowly, "but Kodlak couldn't tell the future, no matter how wise he was. I can't tell you if his dream was truthful or not, Farkas. From what my mother used to tell me about the afterlife for werewolves, the Hunting Grounds are supposed to be endless paradise. But you are new to the blood, aren't you?"

"No." Farkas chewed at his lower lip for a second. "Vilkas and I were brought into the Circle after our twentieth birthday. I'm not yet thirty."

"Then who's to say you won't be able to go to Sovngarde after all?" She tilted her head. "You were born a Nord with the belief that you would be welcomed into the Hall of Valor. You were this way for twenty years. Perhaps that won't change just because you became wolf."

Emotions warred across his face. First he looked relieved, then impressed, then worried again. "But perhaps it _will_ change."

She patted his knee. "I can't speak for the gods, or for the daedric princes. This is a choice you have to make for yourself."

"Would you ever cure yourself?"

For a third time, she was taken aback. "I don't…I…" she stuttered, trying to come up with a coherent reply.

He watched her struggle for a moment, and then something must have occurred to him. "Oh. That was rude of me, wasn't it? You were born this way. That would be like asking me if I would ever leave the Companions and become a librarian."

She blurted a laugh. "Almost. Farkas, I can't cure myself the way you or Vilkas or even Aldric could. My gift did not originate from the Glenmoril Coven."

"'Gift,'" he repeated. "That sounds like Aela."

"Aldric said she is strong with her beast."

"She is. So was Skjor. They tolerated Kodlak because they had to, but they did not agree. I think they both would enjoy the Hunting Grounds," he reasoned.

"Perhaps." Movement to her left alerted her, and she turned her head to see two figures approaching the light.

Aela and Aldric returned, the latter carrying a large sack that dripped blood. "We dressed the kill and left it in the woods," he told her when he followed her gaze to the sack.

"What did you find?"

"A small doe," Aela answered. "The chase was easy."

"She means chasing the deer was easy," Aldric broke in. "I had to chase _her_. That? Was not easy."

"His boot went through a frozen puddle up to his knee." Aela smirked, setting her bow and quiver down next to her bedroll. "He complained about it the entire way back."

Aldric sat heavily and yanked off his boot, putting his foot close to the fire. "I can't feel my toes," he grumbled.

Rory leaned forward and pulled his leg back slightly. "Not so close," she fussed.

Aldric caught Farkas grinning at her and turned to Rory. "What did you two do while we were gone?"

"Talked a little," the other man answered. "Rory is very smart."

"Devious, more like," Aldric muttered.

Aela looked up from pulling the cuts of meat from the sack. "We should talk further."

"About what?" Rory asked her.

"Farkas and I have fought vampires, but not ones that could change form." She was crouched on the balls of her feet, her arms perched on her thighs as she watched Rory. "You need to tell us what it is like to come against the powerful ones."

"It's unlikely that we'll face any of those at Snowpoint," Rory disagreed. "I'm confident that we ended this with Marcus, no matter what he said."

"Would you have us be unprepared?" the redhead countered.

"No, but—"

Farkas straightened up. "What can it hurt? Tell us a few stories while we all eat supper."

Aldric nudged her playfully. "Fine. I'll answer any questions you have."

Aela immediately took the opportunity. "Is their change like ours?"

"No. It's faster. But it's more violent. Their skin bursts from their body, and the pain momentarily disorients them." She scratched her head, thinking back.

"Do they use magic the way other vampires do?"

Rory nodded. "Yes. You're familiar with their spell that drains your life force from you?"

"Vilkas said that could be dangerous to us if we didn't hold our beasts," Farkas said. "That it could change us into vampires."

"He's right," Rory confirmed. "The others use a spell similar to that, except it's far more powerful."

"We have heard many rumors," Farkas admitted. "Bats, mist, the ability to paralyze and pull a faraway target to them…"

Rory grimaced and looked away. "That is all true."

Aela's voice was soft in its astonishment. "What?"

"This is why I was reluctant to talk about this. This kind of conversation can instill fear and uncertainty."

Farkas frowned. "We are not afraid, Rory."

"You should be," she argued. "And I don't mean the kind of fear that would make someone run away. You need to have a healthy fear and respect when facing these creatures. Not every one of them can do what you just said, Farkas, but even without those powers, they're very strong."

Aela looked at Farkas sidelong before turning to her again. "What are their strengths?"

"They will prefer to attack from a distance using magic. They can also resurrect the dead to fight for them," she started.

"Necromancers," Farkas interrupted, his lip lifted in a snarl.

"Yes. Once they've run their magic dry, they switch to physical attacks. Do not let them get you into a grapple," she warned. "They'll use their wings to prevent you from pulling back, and once they've trapped you they can bite or slash at you with their claws. They're incredibly strong, so once you've been trapped it's very difficult to break free."

"Right," Aela said, nodding. "They can fly?"

"Not very far from the ground, no."

"Do they use weapons, like other vampires?"

Rory paused a second, thinking. "I've never seen any of them do that, no."

"How are they in hand-to-hand combat?" Farkas asked curiously.

"Not as good as wolves," she admitted. "On the ground, they are slower. But they pack a hard blow. They have talons similar to our claws, and their fangs are just as long and sharp."

"What techniques would you recommend against them?" Aldric surprised her with his own question.

Rory gestured to Aela's bow. "They are vulnerable to distance attacks, though they move quickly while hovering. If you engage them on the ground, I would recommend teaming against them. One can distract them in front while another strikes from behind. Overwhelm them with your weight and bring it to the ground. Once it's down, you've all but won."

"The same way we brought down the one that was at Snowpoint," Aldric murmured.

"Exactly."

Aela and Farkas were quiet, looking into the fire as they mulled over what she'd told them. Aldric busied himself with preparing the food, cooking the venison in simple steaks over the flames. Farkas doled out bottles of Honningbrew Mead, much to everyone's surprise, and they shared supper in silence.

Aldric left to make water, and Aela joined him so that he could be nearby while she did the same thing. They hadn't seen many predators in the area, but Rory knew that some of them could be nasty surprises—like trolls that had learned a semblance of stealth.

She scooted closer to Farkas, who was draining his second bottle of mead. His pale eye rolled over to look at her as he tipped his head back to get the last drops. Rory gestured to his armor, and he nodded wordlessly as he lifted his arm for her to get to the straps.

As she loosened the straps and buckles, she watched his face. The fire seemed to draw everyone's gaze that night, but he stared into it like he would find some long-awaited answer. She lifted the heavy steel breastplate over his head and set it down beside his bedroll, and then ran her fingertips over the faint lines on his forehead. He turned his head to her, his eyes inquisitive.

"You worry about something."

Gently, he removed her hand from his face. "This is why I wish Vilkas was here," he joked. "He does the worrying for everyone."

She smiled, but ran her hand down his arm. "Try to sleep soundly tonight, Farkas. We talked about things that you still have many years to figure out, gods willing."

His eyes were pulled back to the fire. "Companions don't have the luxury of long lives."

Rory pressed her lips together as she watched Aldric approach again. "I know."

* * *

Some time during the night, after they had all fallen asleep, Rory woke herself during a turn to her side. Aldric gripped her from behind, as usual, but she was more inclined to think the heat inside the bedroll was what had roused her. They had removed only their boots and gloves, opting to be prepared due to the open element of the campsite.

As she blinked herself awake, faint images of the dream played behind her eyes. It was harder to remember than usual, but she was certain she'd had the nightmare again in the few hours of sleep she'd had.

She sat up, careful to not jostle Aldric, and pulled herself out of the bedroll—a difficult feat, due to how tightly they'd been pressed together inside of it. Once free, she pulled her boots on and spent a moment contemplating the glowing branches of the dying fire in front of her.

A distant sound drew her attention, and she squinted, looking up. The watchtower stood silently in front of them, the flag at the top rippling peacefully. She looked over both shoulders, making certain no predators approached.

There was another sound from the direction of the pack's camp. The wind, blowing snow, and the open nature of where they were distorted things, and she couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was she was hearing. She couldn't explain it, but somehow it sent anxiety coursing through her.

Rory stood, dithering over what to do. Approaching the watchtower, much less the pack, in the middle of the night could potentially be bad—very bad. She turned to look at Aldric, Aela, and Farkas, all of whom were very deeply asleep. She couldn't bear to wake any of them.

She considered the tower. It was possible to approach from the opposite side of the usual path, where the small wooden walkway was constructed. And she didn't need to get very close, only close enough to see if things were all right.

Before she could change her mind, she took off at a jog, crouching low to the ground. She began to swiftly climb the mountain, keeping her eyes trained on the watchtower in case a pack member on duty were to pop out unexpectedly.

Before she even reached the stone tower, she stopped dead in her tracks. An orange glow was visible from where she was, further back into the camp. It was too large to have been the cookfire in front of Kyrr's cabin. Something, or multiple somethings, was on fire.

Her earlier indecision gone, she scrambled up the steps into the watchtower. The same pack member as before was sprawled on a bedroll just within, his back to her.

She ran to him. "Wake up!" she shouted. "Something is wrong!"

He didn't move, and she nudged his back hard with her foot. He rolled forward with the force of her shove, too limply. Rory froze, and then knelt, carefully rolling him to lie on his back.

He was cool to the touch of her hands, his eyes closed. This close, she registered the smell of blood. She looked down and saw the hand over his chest had come away smeared with the sticky red substance. He'd been stabbed in his sleep.

"Kaspar," she whispered. She whipped around, searching for him, but the other man was the only one that had been downstairs.

Rory made for the stairs going to the top of the tower, taking the steps two at a time. "Kaspar!" she screamed as she went.

Another dead pack member was on the roof, but it wasn't him. From her vantage point on the top of the tower, she could see her small group further down the hillside. She could also see what was happening in Snowpoint.

Several tents roared with a white-hot blaze. Pack members ran around the camp, some screaming, some gathering in the center to organize fighting. It was eerily similar to the first attack on the camp, minus the fire.

_Marcus was right_, she thought. _It didn't end with him._


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

Aldric was rudely awoken by hands shoving him and rolling him onto his back. His eyes snapped open and his arms went up defensively, until he realized it was Rory. She hovered over him, her eyes wide and alarmed.

"Rory?" he asked wildly, sitting up. "What's wrong?" He could feel her adrenaline like it was his own.

"Snowpoint is being attacked again," she told him. She handed him his boots and found her own gauntlets, pulling them on.

Behind her, Aela had already stood up and was making for her bow. Farkas was slower to stir, but had pushed up on one elbow, squinting at them with one eye squeezed shut.

"Huh?" he grunted.

The tip of Aela's boot clanged into Farkas' steel breastplate. "Put your armor on, ice-brain!"

He heaved to a sitting position and looked at Rory. He opened his mouth, but then closed it. His gaze switched instead to Aldric. He was clearly remembering the talk they had had in Jorrvaskr about leadership. "Is that wise? Should I leave it off so I can shift?"

"I'm not sure what's happening," Rory cut in, "but it has to be vampires associated with Marcus. Put it on but don't fully tighten it. You may not be able to find the three of us when it comes time to shift."

Aela secured her quiver on her back. "Gods, Farkas, why do you have to wear such bulky armor?"

He snorted as Rory helped him don it. "Because I hit first and ask questions later."

The huntress spared a chuckle. "Let's fight, brother."

Aldric tossed one of Rory's ebony swords to her, hilt-first, something she normally would have scolded him about. She caught the blade in mid-air, her hand wrapping around the sheath, and immediately pulled it free. More carefully, he passed her the second one.

"Leave your bow." She shook her head as he reached for it. "Aela is taking hers."

He grabbed his greatsword and attached it to his back. Rory barely waited for them to get ready before taking off again. Farkas seemed to be taking his oath a little too seriously, as he stood rooted to the spot until Aldric took off after her. There was no time to discuss the finer points of leadership, so he merely clapped the big warrior on the back. "Let's go, Farkas!"

When Rory neared the watchtower, he put on a burst of speed and caught up to her. "What about—"

"Kaspar isn't there," she called over her shoulder. Then she swore and ducked. "Look out!"

A fireball was sailing in their direction. Aldric hit the ground, feeling the heat of it sizzle over him as it passed him. It struck the side of the tower with a muted explosion, and pieces of stone pelted the snow around him.

Aela wasted no time, creeping past him with an arrow strung. He scrambled to his hands and knees, seeing that Rory was already several yards ahead. "Rory!"

She ignored him and ran full tilt into the chaos. Aldric could see that more than one of the tents in the camp had caught fire, and as he stood there watching, he saw that the blaze was spreading. Another tent began to smolder and flicker, and finally flames ate their way across the entire side of it.

The scene was familiar to him, and oddly so, like he was reliving a dream. Ahead of him, he spotted Rory's dark shape trotting up to a group of men and women that had gathered in the center of the camp.

"—inside the cabin," a man was shouting over the noise to Rory. He pointed to Kyrr's cabin. Aldric stretched, but couldn't see anything amidst the people rushing around.

"When?" Rory demanded.

"Only moments ago, when they stormed the camp! I must go now!" The man turned and ran, dragging a woman with him.

Rory turned to Aldric. "He said that he heard from another that something happened with Amon, Kyrr, and Seraph. They're within the cabin and no one can make it inside."

For a split second, the confusion around the massive cookfire cleared, and Aldric saw two shifted vampires crouched in front of the doors. Every able-bodied fighter that approached was quickly taken down. Bodies littered the area in front of the creatures.

He exchanged a look with Rory. "Let's go for them."

She nodded.

He turned to where Aela was waiting, her arm drawn back as she searched for a target. Farkas had his Skyforge steel greatsword raised, calmly evaluating their surroundings.

Aldric pointed to the cabin. "Rory and I are going for the two of them. Follow and watch our backs. Don't let anyone get close."

Aela sighted down her arm at the vampires. "I thought you said we are not to face them one-on-one," she shouted tersely.

"We can handle this."

"Very well." Her fingers loosened, and the arrow she'd been aiming shot forward. Aldric followed its path and saw that it had buried itself in the right side of one of the vampire's chest. It snapped the shaft in half and screeched into the night.

Rory dodged and ducked the running people. Aldric's blood pumped at a fever pitch; each footfall of snow she kicked up with her boots glittered, crystalline, in the firelight. He raced after her, drawing his greatsword.

She reached the pair before he did. Both of the vampires bared their fangs and shrieked at her, wings flapping. Before they could jump on her, he made it to her side and struck out with his greatsword.

The flat of his blade knocked aside the arm of the one on his left, and it turned partially with the force of the blade. "_FUS!_" he Shouted.

The partial Thu'um staggered the vampire even further, a brief shockwave slamming him against the wall. Aldric swung his greatsword over his head and brought it down before it could recover. The creature's head rolled to the ground, and a great gout of blood spurted from its neck. Arms flailing, the body fell slowly to its knees like it was still fighting to live.

Rory screamed in rage beside him. The vampire she was fighting had managed to hook a wing over its shoulder and catch its claw in the leather of her armor over her shoulder blade. It jerked her forward, trying to get her close enough to use its other wing, and she struggled to get free.

Aldric sliced completely through the wing at the same time Rory drove her sword straight through the center of its body with another scream. She ripped her blade free and slashed at its head. The ebony sword cleaved through the vampire's face, and he dropped.

Farkas grunted behind him. He turned to see him kick a lesser vampire in the middle before his sword cut through the man's shoulder. The Companion spared a look over his shoulder at Aldric. "Go! We have this!"

Aela was entirely focused on taking her targets down before they could even get close to her. He'd never seen her like this. Just as her arrows were released, she reached behind her for another and fitted it into her bow to be fired again, mere seconds passing between shots. She was methodical and deadly fast, like a machine.

A vampire woman rushed her, and she gripped her bow in her fist before punching the woman in the throat. The vampire stumbled and fell to one knee, sucking air, and Aela drew her dagger, plunging it into the top of her head. She then dropped her weapons, and her hands began to pull apart her armor, preparing to shift.

Satisfied that they could handle this for a moment, he turned around again. Rory was gone. He cursed and ducked inside the cabin, pushing through the broken doors to get to the long hall inside.

Halfway down, Aldric spotted her crouched on the ground. Kyrr was beside her, and together they hunched over a body between them. The closer he got to them, the more the noise from outside faded.

It was Andreas. Aldric stood over the three and looked down helplessly. Blood was everywhere. The old man had been torn into, and the wounds did not look like weapons had made them.

"Father," Kyrr murmured softly. He pushed his father's hair back from his forehead soothingly, like a father would do to a sick child.

Andreas fought for life. His arms were drawn up, hands twisted into claws that grasped desperately at the air over his chest. His eyes were wide and rolled around, first to Kyrr, then to Aldric, and then finally to Rory.

His mouth opened and closed like he had no control over it. When he tried to speak, blood spattered from his mouth and stained his white beard. He strained upward from his position on his back, a strangled cry coming from his throat.

"Do something," Kyrr pleaded Rory, his voice distraught.

She looked down, her hand smoothing down his front. The blood that was still pumping out of Andreas was very dark, nearly black. An artery, potentially more than one, had been severed.

"I cannot, Kyrr," she told him softly.

"He's drowning on his own blood!" the alpha raged, tears thick in his voice.

Rory clamped her hand over his shoulder. "He is going very quickly, Kyrr. You will miss him if you are not careful."

Kyrr looked down to Andreas. True to what Rory had said, his attempts at breathing were already slowing. His hands gently ceased their frantic grabbing motions. "Father."

He slid his hand into Andreas', clutching tightly. Andreas turned his head to the side, his eyes drilling into his son's. His lips moved soundlessly. A great shudder wracked his body, and he gasped.

Kyrr rubbed both of his hands over his father's, crying quietly. "He is gone?"

Rory didn't say anything. All three of them could smell that Andreas' heart was still. She gently reached out and closed Andreas' eyes, running her hand over the side of his face before pulling her arm back.

"What happened to him?"

Kyrr squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head over his father's body. "Amon. I was in my quarters with my mate when it happened. No one was around except for my father." His voice quivered. "He was looking for me."

"Where is he?"

"Go through the chamber attached to my bedroom. We…" His throat worked. "My father's father had created a long tunnel cut through the mountain itself. It exits the north side. We…it was for situations exactly like this. If the cabin were to be sealed, we would have an alternate means of escape."

Rory stood. Andreas' blood rolled from her knees down her legs. "Is Amon alone?"

"No. I was told that Seraph was with him. I believe he has lost his mind and taken his brother against his will." Kyrr looked up at her. "Ever since we received the news that you were here to speak with me, he was beside himself. Seraph tried to soothe him all evening."

Aldric took hold of Rory's shoulder. "Amon must be the contact Marcus mentioned."

Her lips were colorless. "He cannot get away."

Kyrr stood and bent at the waist. He gathered Andreas into his arms. "Help me get into my quarters and I will show you the way."

Aldric took Andreas' legs, and they awkwardly walked the rest of the way down the hall as quickly as they could. Passing through the entry room, he immediately saw what Kyrr had been talking about.

Heaps of bricks had crumbled onto the carpet. A hanging tapestry had hidden the wall that had been destroyed. Beyond the rubble, Aldric saw only the first few feet of a great, black tunnel.

They deposited Andreas onto Kyrr's bed, and the alpha turned to face him and Rory, his front covered in blood. It had even gotten in his hair.

"The tunnel extends quite far into the mountain, and then will turn to the left at the end. It may double back on itself a time or two before exiting the north face of the mountain—I am unsure." Kyrr looked down at his bare feet, thinking hard. "The last time the wall was taken down, I was a young man, no older than twelve. I made it only partially down the tunnel before my mother caught me. I have never made the full journey to the end. I do not know what awaits you."

Rory nodded and turned on her heel, running into the room. Without preamble, she darted over the pile of bricks and jogged straight into the mouth of the tunnel.

"Rory!" Aldric yelled. "_Wait_ for me!" He stumbled on a brick and barely righted himself before tripping again.

There was a faint snap, and he and Rory both looked down to see the broken cable lying at her feet. She turned to him. "A tripwire."

Suddenly, there was a whooshing sound from overhead, and Aldric threw himself backward out of pure instinct. A thick iron gate rushed down from the ceiling and clanged into place on the floor violently, trapping Rory inside the tunnel.

Aldric could see only glimpses of her pale face between the bars. He swore and turned around to see Kyrr watching. "How do I get this up?"

The alpha shook his head, clearly mystified. "I do not know. I did not know such a thing was there."

"There has to be a lever, or a chain somewhere!" Aldric shouted, losing his temper. "Where would it be?"

Kyrr raised his hands in front of his chest. "Aldric, I do not…"

He turned back to the gate. "Stay here. Do _not_ move until I can find a way to get this up. You cannot go after Amon by yourself, Rory, do you hear me?"

There was movement behind the gate, and her left eye appeared at a small gap. "He can't get away, Aldric. This will never be over if he does."

Her voice was very calm, and it unnerved him. "I know that. Just please, wait a moment. I can find a way to get the gate up."

There was commotion in the hall behind him, and he whipped around to see Aela, still in beast form, being backed down the hall by three lesser vampires. She lunged forward with a roar, and her target slashed at her with a sword. Aela growled in pain and anger, and seized the vampire by his shoulder, hurling him into the wall.

Before she could turn to face the other two, they both pounced on her. One drove a dagger into the thick muscle of her shoulder. She went down on her back, and as she fell, she used her broad feet to launch one of them over her head, further down the hall. She smoothly rolled to pin the remaining vampire underneath her, and her fangs sank into his skull, killing him.

The vampire she had kicked scrambled up, his eyes huge when he saw Aldric looking at him through the doorway. His Thu'um ripped out of him again, at full force this time. The man sailed backward, blowing straight past Aela, her fur ruffling with the wind of Aldric's Shout. As he went, she grabbed him around the throat with one powerful hand. Snarling, she cracked his neck with one flex of her lithe arm.

She shivered violently and doubled over as she shifted back to her human form. Going down on one knee, she reached behind her and grabbed the hilt of the dagger still embedded in her shoulder. Before Aldric could stop her, she pulled it out with a pained grunt.

Blood streaking down her back and chest, she turned to him. "Where is Rory?"

Aldric spun around and leaped over the rubble to get to the gate. "Rory!" he yelled.

There was no answer.

"Rory!" he bellowed again, pounding the gate with his hands. "_Goddammit!_ Rory!"

Furious, he rounded from the gate and stomped toward Kyrr, who hadn't moved from his position in the corner of the room. The alpha looked up at him, his face blank and pale, as if he wasn't registering what was happening.

"Listen to me, Kyrr." Aldric forcibly shoved his anger down and took the man's shoulders in his hands. "I need you to think. There has to be some kind of release for this gate on this side. Even if it was designed to be a trap, there would be a catch in case of an error."

Kyrr blinked too slowly. "I…there may be something behind the remainder of the wall," he said. "Pull the rest of the bricks away and search."

The wall had not been completely dismantled around the entrance to the tunnel, and Aldric quickly saw what Kyrr was talking about. It was entirely possible that what he was looking for was hidden behind what was still standing.

He crossed the floor to the broken wall and pulled at a brick with both hands. If the tunnel had been constructed as an emergency route of escape, the way Kyrr had said, then the mortar would be purposely weaker than a standard wall so that it could be taken apart with the absence of tools.

The brick came free after a moment of pulling. He tossed it behind him and seized the one underneath it. He could feel the stone easing free of the mortar, and he grunted as he ripped it out. Aldric took a step back and struck at the wall with a powerful kick. The wall quaked, and several bricks fell. He kicked at it again, ignoring the painful shock traveling up his leg, and then pulled at another brick with his hands.

Slowly but surely, the wall began to come apart. Aldric swore as he worked at it. The minutes ticked by, and every second that passed could be a second that Rory was fighting for her life without him.


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

It was remarkably easy for Rory to walk away from the gate while Aldric was distracted. He would be very angry and worried, but it was a small thing to sacrifice in the face of what she was going to do.

As she backed away from the light, into the darkness of the tunnel, something overwhelmed her. It seemed like she couldn't draw enough air to breathe once the blackness became her only surrounding.

This was her dream.

She slowed her pace and drifted to the left side of the tunnel. Her fingers touched cool stone the way she knew they would. Moving forward at a crouch, she stayed on the balls of her feet. Each inhale and exhale was silenced. She tried her best to become one with the darkness as she hunted Amon.

In her mind's eye, she replayed the part of the dream where she came across her own body. A voice whispered to her, _You never said goodbye to Aldric._ And then, when she met that thought with silence, _It's not too late to turn around._

"I can't," she choked out.

And she couldn't. She could not force herself to stop and go back. This would end today, with one death or another.

The floor beneath her feet seemed to be tilting at a nearly imperceptible downward angle, judging by the tension in her knees as she moved forward. The further she made it into the mountain, the colder it grew. It ate at her, wrapped around her throat with an icy hand and burned down her throat to her lungs as she breathed.

More time passed than she would have guessed before she reached the left turn. She sensed it more than felt it—like standing over the edge of some vast abyss. She could feel the emptiness before her. As she inched forward, tiny licks of breeze surged forward, snatching at loose hair around her face. When she finally crossed into the next hallway, rushing wind curled around her body from ahead. Again, as she knew it would, the scent of fresh blood rode the gusts.

Rory paused. If she was the one dying under the light at the end, why had blood already been spilled?

She could see the torch flickering from where she stood. It seemed closer than it had in her dream. This time, the floor led uphill instead of down. Pressing herself against the shadows of the right side of the tunnel, she moved forward, keeping her eyes to the floor.

There was already a body on the ground. Instead of feeling relief, her muscles tightened in anxiety. She was less than fifty feet from the person. They were curled on their side, bare back facing her. Long, black hair trailed from behind them in the pool of blood they lay in.

Rory walked close enough to touch. It was Amon.

Staring down at him, she wasn't sure what to do. If Amon was dead, then justice had been fulfilled, but Seraph was still in there somewhere. She should find him—but her instincts were screaming to get out of the tunnel and go back to the cabin.

As she fought with herself, she caught a flicker of movement at her feet. She took a step back immediately when she saw Amon's head move. He turned slowly, so slowly, to see her standing over him.

"Rory," he croaked. With immense effort, he rolled himself to rest onto his back.

Fresh blood gushed from the wound in his upper stomach. It was similar to how young Klaus' wound had been, except there was no mistaking its efficiency. The blow had been a killing one, and the pool of blood Amon rested in was too large to mean anything other than certain death.

She looked to his left, where he had been curled around the floor. A plain steel dagger was on the floor, its blade covered in blood. Rory kicked it away from him, and it hissed against the stones as it skittered into the darkness.

Amon managed a chuckle. His teeth were stained a reddish color. "I…am not a threat to you."

She crouched to the floor. "I can see that, Amon. You will be dead moments from now."

He panted for breath. "Andreas?"

"You killed him."

Amon's head shook feebly. "No. Not…not me. Brother."

"Kyrr told us that you lost your mind and pulled Seraph with you into the tunnel. People saw you attack Andreas."

He shook his head again, stronger this time. "Seraph. He…" A cough burst from his lips, and she blinked reflexively against the fine spray of blood. "He saw you. In a dream. Said you…came to kill him. I…" He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced as a wave of pain rolled over him. "Wanted to stop him. I…tried. He forced me here. Andreas was…he tried to stop him."

Her eyes swept over his face. It was impossible to smell if he was lying, because his life was slipping away from him. Every bodily sign he might have given in the face of a falsehood was rocketing at full speed at the moment.

He stared up at her. "I still…wanted to protect you. Couldn't let him kill you."

Rory swallowed. "Where is your brother?"

His eyes rolled to his right, further down the second tunnel. "That way."

"Is Seraph the one that Marcus had stationed here?" she asked him.

Amon blinked, and this time he was slow to open his eyes again. "Don't know that name. But your eyes…" He looked up, locking his gaze with hers. "…you have his eyes. That's how I…you were…familiar to…"

"Whose eyes?" she demanded.

His own eyes closed again. She watched him for a moment, and when he didn't open them again, she gently touched his face. "Amon?"

His lashes fluttered as he stirred. "Rory. When…did you get here?" His lips curved up in a sleepy smile.

She slid the hand on his cheek down to his throat. His pulse fluttered very weakly against her palm, like the beat of a butterfly's wings. His silver eyes looked up at her as she cupped the other side of his face in her left hand, and he turned into her touch.

Something in her hurt as she looked down at him. So close to death, with most of his blood outside of his body, and Amon was smiling up at her like she was the exact last thing he wanted to see.

Despite everything he had done, she felt a tiny part of her dig up sympathy for him. Amon had wanted her, truly wanted her, and he went about that the only way he'd known how. She'd never believed he was a truly bad person—he just had a streak of mean in him. With the right care, and the right amount of time, another woman might have been able to coax that out of him.

Whatever Amon had been in life, he was leaving the light now. Very few people truly deserved anything but kindness at the end. She couldn't bring herself to walk away before he died.

She swept her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward to put her mouth near his ear. "Close your eyes, Amon. Close your eyes and rest."

Rory felt his breath against her neck as he pulled her scent into his nose. She held still, her fingers stroking the side of his face. It wasn't long before his breathing began to slow. He jerked once, as if his body felt his life slipping away, and his heartbeat lurched beneath her hand.

"Shh, Amon," she breathed into his ear. "Be still."

Pressed against her front, she felt Amon's body slowly lose the tension that had appeared in the last moment. With her eyes shut, she could almost feel the exact second he died.

She pulled back and looked down. Despite the wound he had suffered, Amon had passed with a remarkably peaceful look on his face. His eyes were closed, with no hint of pain around them.

A small sound, a rasp of a boot on stone, registered to her left. Turning her head very slowly, she looked up to see Seraph standing there. He gazed down at his brother, and tears rolled down his face.

"You were wonderful with him just then, Rory," he told her. "Kinder than I ever would have thought possible for you."

Her muscles tensed. "Seraph. Amon told me that you…"

"…killed Andreas?" he finished for her, turning his face to her. He no longer looked sad, but sheepish, like a little boy caught stealing sweets. "I regret that. The old man was the only one in our way. I did not want it to end like that, but he fought me. He was very stubborn, as I am sure you can attest to."

She didn't say anything, but rose to her feet quickly. He watched her make the movement impassively. Dressed in his customary outfit of a leather tunic and trousers, she could not see any weapon on him.

He gave her a friendly smile. "You must have so many questions for me."

Rory saw a glint in his eye that made her think he was not wholly stable. "Just one."

"Only one? A pity."

She ignored him. "You worked for Marcus."

"That is not a question." Seraph swayed his golden hair over his shoulder with a coy smile. "But I will answer you nonetheless. No, Aurora, Marcus worked for me."

Her mouth dropped open slightly before she recovered. "How? _Why?_"

"I would like to answer that rather vague and unsatisfactory question with a short tale, if you will allow me." When she didn't respond, he continued. "When your mother, Cora, lived with Snowpoint, she was close friends with a pack member named Dimitri. They had often thought that they might end up mated to one another in the future, but it was nothing serious.

When your father, Lukas, managed to seduce Cora, all at Snowpoint—even her own family—shunned her and turned their backs on her. All except Dimitri. He was the only one that still loved her. He even left Snowpoint after a while so that he could maintain contact with Cora. He visited her after she birthed the child she had conceived with Lukas, and saw how curious and how fascinating her daughter was.

Through a friendship forged with Lukas, Dimitri began to wonder if he could create a hybrid child of his own. The power to be gained from such a creation was something that very much held his interest. It took him many years to find a vampire woman willing to participate in his experiments, and by that time he was no longer a young man.

Lukas was not hopeful for Dimitri's chances of conceiving with his undead wife, and he discouraged Dimitri from creating life if he was not interested in being a father." Seraph's eyes flashed. "Through some bizarre twist of fate, he was finally able to greet the son that his wife brought forth. And not long after that, he was gifted a second son by a werewolf woman, Amon's mother."

"Dimitri was your father? You were the son he had with a vampire woman?" Rory demanded. She felt frozen, as if her fingers would never work again.

"Ah-ah, do not interrupt, please." Seraph ticked his finger at her. "But yes. My mother was vampire, and that was something Lukas had previously thought impossible. My father did not love me, but he loved what I grew to be. Lukas often visited over the years and collaborated with my father over many small projects—quite a few of them involved your blood."

"My blood."

"Yes." He smiled softly. "Surely you recall your father taking samples from you."

"Of course I do," she snapped. "What did you do with it?"

"That was not something I was privy to, on most occasions."

"Why was I never told of you?" Rory's head felt light. "My father never mentioned your existence, or Dimitri's."

"As cold and calculating as your father was," Seraph began, "I do believe he was quite unnerved by my father's lust for power. The science of our births called to him, beckoned to him like a lover, but he was weakened by his love for you, his daughter. He could never accomplish what my father did because of you."

"And what did your father accomplish?" Rory spat. "What kind of evil things did he do?"

Seraph tossed his head back and laughed. For the second time, Rory was struck with a faint but unavoidable feeling that he had somehow been hiding a depravity that no one had noticed.

"I could show you the bodies, but I believe your delicate sensibilities would be offended," he laughed. "Perhaps a description will suffice. Amon and I were not the only children Dimitri fathered. He was able to have another child, a son, like me, and he coerced a vampire male to father a child with Amon's mother, another son—like you, with a vampire father. Through some stroke of unimaginable brilliance, my father discovered a secret about the bite of a hybrid. Do you want to know what it is?"

She stared at him.

He grinned. "I can tell that you do, but your pride will not allow you to answer. No matter. As you are well aware of, the bite of a vampire can sometimes transfer _sanguinare vampiris_, and sometimes the bite of a werewolf can transfer lycanthropy. My father wondered what would happen should a hybrid bite a human, or a vampire, or a werewolf."

Rory's stomach turned. In her darkest thoughts, she had sometimes speculated over whether her father had wanted to conduct experiments like this—and she couldn't deny that she harbored a kind of twisted curiosity herself. She listened to Seraph talk like she was unable to move away.

"To answer the question of a hybrid biting the human or vampire, the result is simple," Seraph spread his hands. "Nothing. Neither man nor Mer, whether living or undead, is affected. But, should a hybrid bite a werewolf…" He gave a low, self-satisfied chuckle. "The results are extraordinary. That werewolf inherits only one effect from the bite, and that is a vastly increased lifespan. This is how my father was able to live for longer than he should have been able to.

I bestowed the gift of my bite to him in his fifty-fifth year. Should he have outlasted violence, he would be well past his hundredth year to this day. This is also how your mother managed to live as long as she did. Lukas and my father suspected that she gained a weaker version of a hybrid's bite by growing you in her womb."

Rory couldn't think of anything to say to him, not one thing.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Seraph misinterpreted the look on her face. "Do you know where the story goes next?"

She licked her lips. "What happens when a hybrid bites another hybrid?"

He clapped. "Very clever! I am impressed. Indeed, yes, that is the question of the hour. You and I both, as hybrids, hold untold power in our possibilities. Think of our bite as being a key that unlocks a secret door in the blood of another hybrid." He mimicked turning a key. "With my bite, I allowed my brother to unleash his full potential. Because I was his opposite—a child inheriting the traits of my vampire mother—I brought his second side to the light."

"What does that mean?" Rory frowned.

"My brother was the same as you, the product of a werewolf mother and vampire father. As such, he could shift only to his wolf form. After he received my bite, he could also shift as a vampire can," he explained. "Think of the power, Rory. Think of all you could accomplish as one so gifted."

A thought occurred to her. "Then why don't I see you ripping your way across Skyrim, backed by an army of hybrids able to change to both forms?"

Again, Seraph laughed like he was truly amused by her. "My brother became quite insane. It was something we could never understand—exactly _what_ caused him to lose his mind. In the end, he died after a day or so of shifting back and forth uncontrollably. You should have seen his body before we burned it." He shook his head in disappointment. "He was a grotesque, misshapen mixture of vampire and werewolf. Truly something out of a nightmare."

"What does any of this have to do with Marcus and my father's clan?" She shook her head, confused. "How did you possibly come to join them?"

"Because of you, of course," he replied, like it was obvious. "Marcus was aligned with your father on some insignificant quest to destroy werewolves, and once he saw my little family, he realized the full scope of power we represented. It was not hard to bring him over with the promise of infamy. And I required your bite so that I could become a true hybrid. My father was unable to bring about another child of your particular makeup. Marcus was an eager helper."

She took a step away from him, away from Amon's body, which was still on the ground between them. "What did you do to my father?"

He reached a hand out, as if he would pat her on the shoulder. "Now, Aurora, please calm yourself. My father told me, ever since I was a young boy, that there was a little girl out there like me. Someone special. He promised that you would be my mate when we were grown."

Rory's pulse accelerated. "Aldric told me that you encouraged him to bond with me. To keep me away from your brother."

Seraph looked down at his brother's body with a frown. "Amon had far overstepped his boundaries. It was quite infuriating. I wanted Aldric to seal the connection with you in hopes that my brother would end his obsession and allow me to focus on my goals. Aldric is disposable, let me assure you."

Somewhere behind the fear, her anger flared up. It comforted her, like an old friends' hug. "Aldric is not disposable."

"Aurora, surely you have been informed that I possess the gift of foresight as a seer?" He raised a brow at her. "I have read it in the stars. We are fated to bond as something deeper than man and wife."

She took another step back. That was _not_ something she wanted to debate with him. Her mind scrambled to come up with another question to distract him. "How did you deceive Kyrr? How did you get him to accept you as a werewolf if you can't shift into wolf form?"

He smiled again, and was all too happy to answer her. "Another unique benefit to being a hybrid. Our mixed blood is confusion to the senses of others who would normally root us out by our scent. To a vampire, I smell like a vampire, and to a werewolf, I smell like a werewolf. Nature is accommodating, no?"

"Serana," Rory murmured. She thought back to how she had initially mistaken Rory for being a vampire.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." She looked up at Seraph and surreptitiously took another step back.

"Because Kyrr is stupid, and holds faith in his worthless traditions, he accepted me in the role of the mother, which they lacked. The mother shuns violence, and as such I was never expected to shift. Not even to hunt with them. Very handy, if I do say so myself." He smirked. "I don't think even _I_ could have planned it any more skillfully."

"How did you know where to find Lilly?" she demanded. "How did you know she was in Nightingale Hall?"

He gave her a pitying look. "Aldric told Kyrr that she was in a small stronghold outside of the city of Riften. Kyrr told Andreas, and the old fool told me. It was not hard to figure out where that would be. I must say, I was disappointed at the reports of the Hall of the legendary Nightingales. Very disappointed."

Rory's hand slid to the hilt of her ebony sword, and this time Seraph's eyes didn't miss it. "What do you want from me, Seraph?"

He looked surprised. "I've already told you that, my love. We will be together. Once you give me your bite, I can give you mine, and after that, well…" He shrugged his shoulders. "The possibilities are endless."

Once again, she ignored that. "Tell me what happened to my father. I won't go anywhere with you if you don't."

Seraph sighed and looked away, like he was dealing with an impetuous child. "Must we drag up the past?"

Her eyes were locked on his. "You've done nothing but drag up the past since you found me here, Seraph. Tell me what happened to my father."

"Lukas came to my father and told him that he was moving away with you and your sister. He said he wanted nothing to do with Dimitri anymore. We couldn't have that, obviously." The end of his sentence tilted up with a smothered chuckle. "He fought with my father, and killed him. After that, it was all too easy to convince you to travel to Snowpoint with the note. Women are so predictable—threaten the young, and they will come for you. Your father was just a treat on top of that."

"You killed him." Slowly, Rory began to move to her left, trying to pinpoint the best form of attack.

"No. We did not kill him. Your father is far too valuable to be killed. Not every vampire man can father children, did you know that?" Seraph cocked his head. "It is rare. For a vampire of your father's age—nearly as old and as powerful as Harkon himself—even rarer."

She froze. "He's still alive?"

Seraph raised his brows and flicked his gaze to the ground. "Well, I would not say he's _alive_…"

"And Amon?"

He shook his head. "I loved my brother, but he was nothing more than the average, stupid werewolf. He did not know anything—whether he suspected or not is another issue entirely. There were occasions where he saw a prisoner or two. I believe Amon merely thought I was a disturbed man with a taste for sadism."

"You are," she growled.

"I want to thank you, once again, for the manner in which you eased him from this world. It was very gentle, something he most certainly did not deserve," Seraph mused. "Did he tell you, at the end, what he did? My plans would have proceeded perfectly if not for his stupidity. I would have been able to use him as a decoy to target your wrath, and then I would have been able to kill Aldric.

It would have been beautiful in its poetry. But the idiot thought I was going to kill you instead, and he could not have that. Even as a scorned man, he would not let you come to harm." His lips twisted in displeasure.

"No matter." He waved his hand. "Aldric's death will suffice for my brother's. Those loyal to me have no doubt launched their assault by now. It will be so nice to see this insufferable pack snuffed out for good."

Nothing in the world would have pleased her more than to shout her rage as she attacked, but she forced her mouth to stay closed as she lunged at him, not wanting to give him even a fraction of a second to react.

She leapt at him and struck him in the left side of his face. When her fist lashed out, she pushed off the ground with her foot and turned her shoulder into the blow. Rory was aiming not at Seraph's cheek, but at six inches inside of his head.

The hit would have snapped the neck of a normal man, but Seraph was not a normal man. He lost his footing and stumbled, his fingers trailing the ground as he fought for balance. Rory drew her leg back, ready to send her knee cracking into his nose, but he was too fast.

He lunged upward and dodged another punch. Grabbing her around the wrist, he deftly spun her and grabbed her other arm. Her back was to his front, with her own arms criss-crossed against her chest. Seraph was more slender than his brother had been, and both of them were smaller than Aldric, but she had never felt physical strength like his before—it was like being trapped by steel bars.

Seraph breathed heavily into her ear. "You feel it?" he asked as she wriggled and bucked in his grip. "You feel my strength? I have felt yours. We are children of the gods, Aurora, _no_ man can stand to us. I beg you, come with me. Do not fight me."

She yelled wordlessly into the air. When she opened her eyes, her vision shook and blurred, warning her of the approaching change.

"Oh, you mustn't do that, my love." Seraph lowered her face to her neckline, and his breath was hot against her neck. "I am sorry to do this in such a filthy place, but you need to see…"

Her heart pounded when she felt his mouth brush her throat. At first, she thought he was going to try to force himself on her, and fear thrilled through her. Seraph was almost strong enough to accomplish it. But she would make him kill her before he could.

When she felt his teeth grazing her skin, she realized what he was about to do. Her wolf snarled in protective rage, fighting Rory's control to try to break free.

She waited until she felt cool air against her neck as Seraph pulled back to bite her. Gathering her strength, she bared her teeth and slammed her head backward against Seraph's face. She screamed in victory when she heard the crack of his nose breaking, and his arms weakened around her.

When she turned to face Seraph, he had staggered away from her, holding his hand to his nose. Blood rained in thick droplets to the stone underneath him. He looked up at her, his eyes streaming. "Aurora, please."

"Only one of us will leave this place alive, Seraph," she snarled at him. She was shaking uncontrollably, her change ripping up her spine.

Something changed in his eyes, like someone had suddenly snuffed the only candle in a dark room. He ripped his tunic away from himself, and his body began to contort.

He was very skilled in his shift. It took no time at all for him to change forms. Rory doubted even she could have beaten him. Standing before her as his beast, he flared his wings out behind him.

Seraph stomped toward her, walking heavily. His lip curled back to reveal his fangs as he glowered at her. In this form he was not capable of speech, but the time for talking had passed.

With shaking fingers, she began to pull her armor apart. Buckles and straps snapped as she tried to shed her cuirass, backing away from Seraph. A cry of pain tore up her throat, but she would not allow it to escape. This change was different; her wolf fought and clawed to be free, not patient enough to allow her to guide the transformation. Her leathers dropped to the floor.

Seraph raised his left hand, and it began to shimmer with a faint orange glow. Rory threw herself to the ground, but Seraph was ready for that. She felt his magic bind her body, like invisible vines tightening around her. His energy constricted her body and dragged her to him—the closer she got, the tighter the magic became. She choked and gagged for air, ugly, desperate sounds coming from her mouth.

Seraph seized her around the neck and lifted her high into the air. He looked up at her and gave a high-pitched screech as his hand closed around her throat. Her vision began to go dark; it seemed like every bit of air she had in her lungs had been squeezed out.

Rory relaxed her body as her life began to fade.

Her wolf had other ideas.

Seraph flinched as her beast tore out of her body like an explosion had gone off inside of her. No change was ever gentle, but this one made every other shift she'd ever done seem as delicate as a frost pattern on a pane of glass.

Blood and other, thicker, fluids spattered the floor and walls around her, and Rory dizzily saw that scraps of her skin decorated Seraph's chest. He recoiled away from her, still holding her up in the air—but his magic had faded.

She grabbed the arm that held her with one hand for leverage. Her other hand punched through Seraph's abdomen, her claws tearing into his flesh. He released his hold on her throat and struggled, shrieking.

She held him down by his shoulder and shoved her hand further, straining upward. When her claws pierced the thin sac of what she was searching for, Rory gave a final push and wrapped her fingers around it.

Things gave and snapped inside of him as she ripped Seraph's heart out of his body.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

Her arm matted with blood nearly past her elbow, she withdrew the organ and held it up before him. He had already let go of her throat, and his face slackened with horror as he looked back at his own heart.

Seraph fell to the floor, his eyes wide. As he died, his body went through one last transformation. It was slow and almost fascinating to watch. As his beast melted back into him, it left his golden-haired corpse on the ground at her feet.

Rory dropped his heart next to him and sagged to the floor. She shook, tremors of adrenaline ripping through her muscles. Seraph had been another hybrid, like her, and yet he had died so easily.

Her own shift began, and she shivered when she was returned to her human form. On her hands and knees, she reached deep inside of her for the energy to summon a flame atronach.

When the fire-woman curled from the orb near her, she pointed down the tunnel with a shaky finger. The atronach obeyed her and gracefully swept down the corridor, lighting the path with her body.

Squinting, it was possible for Rory to make out a thick metal door at the very end of the tunnel. Even from here, she spotted the chains and the massive lock in the center. She looked down at Seraph, and then where his pants had ended up behind him.

Staggering like a drunk, she hauled herself up and made it to his pants. With shaking hands, she poked around in his pockets. She fully expected to find nothing, but in the second one her fingers hit a cold, hard object. A simple key glittered in the light of the solitary torch in the wall when she pulled it out.

She blinked in confusion when she realized her vision was still blurred. Looking down at her body, she searched for a wound, but found none. Then she felt the wetness on her face.

Tears. They were hot on her fingers. They curved down her cheeks with a feather-light touch, dripping to her jaw and tracing her throat. She sucked in a steadying breath, but it immediately betrayed her by turning into a sob.

Rory walked over to Seraph's body. He had told her so many things, and none of it ever answered the only question that mattered: why?

_For power_, a voice whispered.

"That's not good enough for me," she whispered back.

She stared down at the bloody hole in his middle, remembering the way her arm had felt inside of him.

The atronach approached her slowly, almost gently, as if the daedra could sense her emotion. It spun and twirled while it waited for her instruction. Rory looked up at the door at the end of the tunnel.

"One foot in front of the other." She shook. "Find Aldric."

Unsteadily, she began to make her way to the door, gripping the key in her hand so hard that it began to hurt. She almost stumbled, and she yelled in frustration. What was wrong with her? She had worked through grief like this before.

"Weak," she snarled to herself. "Pathetic."

The atronach flipped in response.

When she was thirty feet from the door, she heard a sharp snap. Disbelieving, she looked down at the floor.

Another tripwire.

She whirled around when she heard the unmistakable sound of another gate descending from above, somewhere behind her. Running back, past Amon and Seraph's bodies, she was just able to see the gate cutting her off from the hallway that returned to Kyrr's quarters.

Almost at the same time that the gate settled into the floor, another noise sounded. She peered down the return tunnel, but the effort was futile. It was pitch-black.

Stone grated on stone—a scraping sound that went on for only a small amount of time. The sound was too loud to be anything other than something large moving.

With a crackling sound, the atronach making its way toward her fizzled and plunged her into darkness. She raised her hand to summon another, when she heard something else.

A wet, rasping noise was making its way toward her, from halfway down the tunnel. Her scalp prickled with alarm as she listened harder. There was a heavy, thumping, dragging noise accompanying it.

Seconds later, she realized what it was. Some kind of creature had been unleashed. She turned her head uselessly toward Seraph's corpse—he'd rigged some kind of trap in the event of his death.

The rasping noise came closer, and she identified it as breathing. The creature sucked air into its mouth noisily, and each breath was an effort. She could almost hear its lungs pressing together. It was crawling and heaving itself, unmistakably, toward her.

She felt the gate between her and the creature. It was very sturdy, but it wouldn't be impossible to break down if the thing was determined enough. Trying to control her rapidly accelerating heartbeat, she stepped a pace away from the gate as she waited.

When the creature had gotten close enough, she brought another atronach forth. Light burst into the space around her, and she winced at the temporary blindness. There was a tiny hiss as the creature on the other side of the gate recoiled from the bright flames.

The gate's bars were spaced widely enough to allow the light from the atronach through to the other side, revealing the being that crouched before her. She gasped in shock.

It was something she had never before seen in person, but had been described to her only once. Nevertheless, it was immediately recognizable to her, because there was nothing else it could be.

It was a vampire that had been starved of blood over an extended period of time. The person strained away from the light of the atronach, a skeletal arm raised up over its face in defense.

Time had stripped the vampire's body of nearly all substance. Its skin, sickly pale and somehow slick in the light, clung to limbs that were almost entirely made up of thin bones. Its flesh draped awkwardly and horrifically in other areas, making Rory's stomach clench.

Under the shadow of its hand, she could barely make out its face. The signs of healthy vampires that had merely abstained from blood for a few days were much more pronounced—its nose had been shortened drastically, as if it had begun the process of retreating upward into the skull, and its lips stretched tight and nearly split in half over fangs that had grown dramatically.

Peppered over the vampire's skin were old and new marks. Its body was covered in scars of every kind—slash marks, burns, clumsily stitched wounds that looked to have been quite large. Her eyes picked out everything. This person had been mutilated, over and over again, and still they lived.

Dark, stringy hair clung to its head, patchy and falling out. The telltale glowing orange eyes peered out at her. As she stared into its eyes, she could see that no one was within them. No personality filled the shell of what had once been a person.

Subconsciously, she had risen her left hand to the gate, and the creature rushed forward, snapping its jaws, ignoring the light. She jumped and pulled back, realizing that it had scented the blood covering her arm.

She knew that vampires that had been subjected to this kind of torture did not die. It took many, many years for their bodies to fade and wither until they appeared to be dead, but a simple infusion of blood would restore them. Their bodies, anyhow—whether or not their minds would return to health was something that depended on the person.

Once the vampire had the scent of Seraph's blood, it lost all hesitance. It fought against the gate, pushing an arm through the bars, screeching at her. Spittle flew from its jaws as it gnashed its mouth furiously at her.

Watching the display in quiet horror, Rory remembered something else—starved vampires were extremely dangerous. The conscious part of their minds had faded into something that was wholly animal. They would fight well past the instinct that compelled sane people to stop when their bodies began to feel pain. Vampires like the one before her would tear themselves apart for a drop of blood.

She neared the gate, reluctantly feeling pity for the person in front of her. The atronach moved in behind her, and something stilled her as she looked into its face. There was something about the shape of its eyes…

Her head filled with an odd buzzing sound. She had never fainted, but she wondered if this was how it felt right before one lost consciousness.

"Father?"

At the sound of her voice, the vampire ceased its crazed motions. It blinked up at her through the gate. Rory knew it was impossible, but she wanted to believe some tiny part of him, deep down, recognized his daughter's voice.

The more she looked at him, the more certain she grew. Seraph had told her—he hadn't killed him. Not dead. His words echoed in her mind.

"_Well, I would not say he's _alive_…" _

"Father, can you hear me?" she whispered.

He stared at her, his eyes moving all over her face.

"It's Rory," she encouraged him. Her face was damp again, but she ignored the tears. "Can you hear me?"

The second atronach fizzled abruptly. Just as she was about to summon another, she heard a distant voice from behind her father. Then faint lights appeared.

Fear lurched in her chest. Her father would slaughter every living creature that approached him, and he may not stop even after his hunger for blood was sated. If she had any hope of reviving him, it had to be done in a safe and controlled way, and there was no chance of that happening if he began to kill people.

She moved to her right quickly, and her father followed her movement. Rory thought desperately of how she could warn the people behind him against coming into the tunnel, without alerting her father to their presence.

His head cocked slightly, and he began to look over his should. Panic flaring through her, she jumped up and down. When he turned back to her, she pressed her still-bloody hand to the gate. He lunged forward, and she barely pulled her arm back in time. Snarling and growling, he licked at the miniscule smear of blood she'd left behind on the metal.

She slapped the gate to get his attention, and he reared back in surprise before throwing himself at her again. Her heart beat frantically in her chest—she could not force her mind to think of a solution.

Rory looked behind her father, and the blood in her veins seemed to freeze. Aldric was quickly approaching, holding a torch. Kyrr and some others were behind him, lighting the dormant braziers that dotted the tunnel as they went.

She summoned another atronach. Her mate paused in surprise as he saw her form, lit from behind. Terror pulsed behind her eyes when he slowly registered what was crouched in front of her, on his side of the gate.

He dropped the torch, and yelled a warning to the people behind him. They looked ahead and saw her father, and began to back away. The chatter of multiple voices, tinged with alarm and fear, trickled down the tunnel to her ears.

The commotion was finally enough to draw her father's attention from her. He turned, sniffing the air curiously. Rory clapped her hands together, hissed at him, but he turned his back on her. Someone else was getting closer, and he was a much more tempting prospect.

Aldric drew his greatsword.

"No!" she yelled suddenly. "Aldric! No! _Listen to me!_ Stop!"

Her father's legs tensed as he prepared to spring.

"NO!"


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

Aldric inhaled sharply as he faced the monstrosity before him. In all he had done over the past several years, he had never seen anything like this.

It hunched in front of him, near the gate where it had been terrorizing Rory. At first glace, he believed it to be some kind of bizarre mutation of Falmer—it shared with the race a skin color and twisted, ghastly face. But it was far too emaciated to possibly be a living Falmer.

Its body had wasted away to unbelievable proportions. It was hardly bigger than a skeleton, and Aldric wondered how it still lived. Then he saw its eyes, glowing in its skull.

A vampire.

He tightened his grip on his greatsword. Having never encountered one quite like this, he had no way of knowing its strength or abilities. Behind him, he heard Farkas' heavy boot steps as he approached.

Aela had stayed behind, her injuries being tended within Kyrr's cabin. They had finally defeated the vampires attacking Snowpoint, but many were dead. Aela would have fought on, if not for Aldric and Farkas forcing her to stop. The stab wound in her shoulder was too serious to ignore.

"_Gods_," the other man muttered. "What is that thing?"

"Some kind of vampire," he answered, not taking his eyes off it.

Farkas looked past it to the gate. Rory was shouting something at him, her voice hoarse and desperate. He could pick almost nothing out of her unintelligible yelling except that she was warning him away.

"Rory is upset," Farkas observed.

"I think she's afraid for me. She may know something about the creature that I don't," Aldric said. Slowly, he began to back up, drawing the vampire away from the gate. "Be careful, Farkas."

Slightly behind him, at the halfway point of the tunnel, they had passed a gap in the wall that Aldric vaguely recognized—a hidden room, revealed by a stone door flush with the rest of the wall. The blackness beyond the hidden door reeked of death and horrible things, and he had assumed that was where the creature had come from.

The vampire let out a guttural growl, and Farkas stopped in his tracks. He was halfway through drawing his own sword when the creature leapt.

It moved blindingly fast, almost too fast for his eyes to track. Aldric dodged to the left, putting distance between him and Farkas. The Companion grunted as he was pushed into the tunnel wall by a glancing blow.

The vampire scrabbled against Farkas, attempting to climb him and get him to the ground. The other man's arm bunched as he leaned away from its snapping face.

"It's strong!" he shouted, strain evident in his voice. "Stronger than—_aah!_"

Rearing back, the creature plunged his fangs into Farkas' forearm. Blood spurted out of the sides of its mouth to roll down Farkas' skin in thick rivulets. Aldric kicked at it from behind, and it snarled at him without letting go, the sound muffled by the arm he was biting. He was latched on like a crazed dog.

Sheathing his greatsword, he stepped forward and seized the creature's head in both hands. He gave a careful pull backward, and Farkas yelled in pain.

"Don't rip him away from me!" the man cautioned. "He'll take part of my arm with him!"

"How am I supposed to get him off?" Aldric grunted. He could feel the raw power vibrating from the creature's body as he held him in a headlock.

"I don't know!" Farkas roared. "Stab him!"

With a massive effort, Aldric pulled an arm away to grab the dagger at his hip. He unsheathed it, and the vampire saw the movement, recognizing the weapon. Suddenly, it let go of Farkas and spun from its perch on the other man's body. The back of one of its hands crashed into Aldric's head.

His vision flickered as he went stumbling back into the wall behind him. Falling heavily, he barely caught himself before his head smacked into the stone floor. Farkas had been right—the vampire was _strong_. Stronger than anything he'd ever fought in hand-to-hand combat.

He shook his head, not sure if the ringing in his ears was from inside of his head or if it was Rory's distant yelling. Farkas moved unsteadily next to him, and he heaved to his feet, blinking hard.

Farkas was one of the biggest, strongest men he'd ever met, and the vampire was slapping him around like a troll might amuse itself with a skeever. Barely able to keep the creature from toppling him, Farkas wrestled to stay upright as the vampire slammed him into the wall repeatedly.

"I'll distract it!" Aldric shouted. "Shift while it's on me!"

Farkas didn't look at him, but nodded to show that he'd heard him. With a mighty kick, he shoved the creature toward Aldric.

Aldric caught the vampire and attempted to turn it toward him. The creature whirled around and threw itself at him. He felt its fangs scrape his jaw as he narrowly avoided blocking an attempt to his throat.

He sucked in a giant breath and felt the power curling inside of him. Struggling to keep his grip on the vampire's shoulders, he opened his mouth and Shouted.

"_Fus…ro dah!_"

The full power of his Thu'um erupted and blasted into the vampire. Caught like a wilted flower petal in a storm, it tumbled away from Aldric, ten, twenty, thirty, forty feet down the tunnel, arms and legs flopping limply as he rolled again and again.

Behind him, Farkas' heavy breastplate clanged to the floor. He silently counted the seconds as he heard him start to shift. Ahead of them, the vampire had rolled to its hands and knees, shaking its head. It was good to see that his Thu'um affected it, but unfortunately Aldric could not do it again immediately. He had to wait for the power to settle inside of him before calling on it.

To his left, a towering black figure walked to him. Farkas, as his beast, crouched and faced the vampire with him, hands and feet spaced widely apart. Once again, Aldric drew his greatsword.

The vampire scuttled on hands and feet toward them, its face contorted in a fearsome grimace. Farkas took the offensive and struck out at it with a massive forearm, trying to slam it into the wall in order to stun it.

It barely stumbled, and in turn seized Farkas' arm. Unbelievably, the giant werewolf staggered, but he regained his footing and roared in the creature's face. He struck the vampire in the chest with his other hand, knocking him away.

Aldric heard the distinct sound of one of the vampire's ribs snapping like a dry twig. Its face did not register the injury in any degree. It lunged at Farkas again, clinging to his upper body with arms and legs, trying to tear into his throat.

The thick ruff of fur that flowed from Farkas' head also protected his neck from exactly that kind of attack, but he still clawed and scrambled to pull the vampire away. The creature pulled back, bloody tufts of black hair spewing from its mouth.

Aldric regretted bringing only his greatsword with him. The blade was so massive that he was unable to make any kind of tactical strike for fear of accidentally hitting Farkas. If he'd had smaller weapons, like Rory's ebony swords, it would have been easier.

Then he remembered his dagger. Sheathing his greatsword once again, he drew the smaller blade and sank it into the creature's side. It completely ignored him, concentrating solely on his attack on Farkas. Aldric realized that whatever it was, it was beyond feeling pain.

It kicked out at him, however, and he was not fast enough to avoid it. He coughed, the wind knocked out of him. Farkas snapped and snarled in pain as the vampire raked sharp claws down his chest.

_This is ridiculous_, Aldric growled in his head.

He stood straight, ignoring how winded he was, and crushed the creature between him and Farkas. It writhed like a wild thing, but Aldric hung on, no matter how much it hurt when its elbows slammed into his ribcage.

Wrapping his arms around the creature, he trapped him in his embrace and began to stagger away from Farkas. The vampire locked his fangs into Aldric's arm, and he felt the sting as his sharp teeth punctured the thick leather of his armor.

With both feet, the vampire lashed out and caught Farkas full in the chest. The werewolf yelped and flew back into the wall with a crunch. Aldric swore when he saw the air shimmer around Farkas—he was shifting back to human form.

Naked and injured, Farkas rolled onto his side, his mouth open in a silent cry of pain. He clutched at his side, and his hand came away bloody.

At the sight and smell of the blood, the vampire in Aldric's arms went insane. Aldric thought the muscles in his biceps might tear from how hard he was flexing to keep the thing trapped.

He lurched forward, doing the only thing that occurred to him at the moment—using his body weight. The creature squealed as Aldric pinned him to the ground. Before he could lose his advantage, Aldric made a desperate grab for the dagger on the stones in front of him. His fingers hit the edge of the hilt and the weapon skittered away.

The vampire was almost completely enveloped underneath his body, and yet Aldric still swore in surprise as it almost bucked him off. How could something so thin and weak-looking be so powerful?

He locked his hands around the vampire's upper arms as he felt himself being thrown off. When his back hit the wall, he managed to keep his grip, and the creature rolled with him.

But his edge didn't last for long. It ripped free from him with a screech, and prepared to launch itself at Farkas. Aldric yelled a warning, afraid that he was going to watch his friend die in front of him.

A black blur took out the vampire just as it leaped. Aldric sat up in shock, watching the other werewolf grapple with it. After a second of observing, he realized it wasn't Aela.

The other wolf fought viciously, snarling and growling with wrath in its eyes. It tore into the vampire's gut with his claws while he had it pinned to the ground with his other arm and both legs.

Shrieking, the vampire flailed as it struck back. The werewolf's muzzle closed around the creature's collarbone, and with a grunt, the wolf flung the vampire away from him, over his shoulder and toward the gate trapping Rory.

Fangs still bared, the werewolf circled back and assumed a protective stance over Farkas. He lowered his head while keeping his eyes on the vampire ahead of him. When Aldric got to his feet, the wolf spared him a quick glance, and he felt a shock of recognition when their eyes met.

"Vilkas," he breathed.

The Companion answered him with a low rumble.

"Stay with your brother," Aldric told him. "This ends now."

Vilkas gave a deep nod.

For the third and final time, Aldric drew his dragonbone greatsword. He approached the vampire cautiously, watching it.

Blackish, sludgy fluid trailed from its injuries. Entrails, withered and slimy, hung in loose tatters from its abdomen. It crouched low to the floor, and Aldric could see that its mouth was opening and closing in slow gasps. They had wounded it greatly, and even if it didn't feel pain, its body was still shutting down.

Rory had given up on trying to say anything coherent. She was screaming wildly and throwing herself against the gate. Anxiety rose in him while he tried to ignore her. Blood was streaming down her naked body, and he had no idea if those were wounds she had sustained in a fight or right in front of him as she tried to pull the gate down with her bare hands.

He readied his sword as the vampire eyed him. Part of his mind was focused on the task at hand, and the other part could not help but be focused on Rory. She hurled her shoulder against the metal bars over and over. The sound was incredible, like two sabercats wrestling. At one strike, he heard the screech of metal as the gate—unbelievably—began to give.

A slight tremor had started to shake the vampire's body. It hissed at him, and Aldric forced his attention on his target. His arms tensed, waiting.

This time, he anticipated the vampire's lunge. Its feet had barely left the floor before Aldric unleashed his Thu'um again.

Just as he'd done earlier, only one word was required to stumble the creature. The shockwave had barely faded before Aldric swung his sword in a mighty blow over his head and straight across.

The vampire's head bounced to the floor, rolling until it came to a stop against the gate.

Rory screamed, and fell to her hands and knees. She screamed again, and then began to retch, her back curving with effort as she gagged. Nothing came out of her mouth, and she crawled away from the creature's head.

Aldric dropped his sword and ran to her. She lay on her back, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she panted for breath. Her eyes stared up at him, and the look on her face was alien. It was like he looked down at a stranger.

"Get…away from me." Her voice was barely understandable, but he heard it.

He started to say something, and then he heard Vilkas call out behind him.

"Aldric!"

Torn between Rory and Vilkas, he finally turned when he heard Farkas groan in pain. He jogged to the brothers and looked down at where Farkas laid on the floor of the tunnel.

One of his ribs, broken badly, had punctured through the skin of his side. Farkas breathed shallowly. Aldric refrained from touching the wound, and dipped his head down to examine it.

"I think you'll be fine, Farkas." He turned to Vilkas. "Go up and see if anyone can be spared to heal him. If you cannot find anyone, bring Aela."

"Yes, Harbinger," Vilkas replied, turning and running from the tunnel.

"It's dead, then?" Farkas gritted out, jaw clenched.

"Yes." Aldric turned to look down to the gate where Rory was. Then he frowned, standing.

She was gone.

* * *

Once again, the sun rose over Snowpoint to bring a new day with the death and carnage. At last count, fourteen men and women—nearly a third of the entire pack—had been killed in the night.

Liana, Kyrr's daughter, had been one of them. Holding his daughter's body, Kyrr gently told Aldric that she had been defending her mother against one of the vampires. He stroked the little girl's hair back from her forehead as he spoke. She looked like she was asleep in his arms.

Aela, arm bound in a sling, was within the tent he had occupied while living at Snowpoint. Both Vilkas and Farkas were with her, and all three of them were resting. Vilkas was exhausted from traveling without stopping to find them, and Farkas had finally succumbed to the sleeping draught he had been given after his injuries had been treated.

Aldric wandered around the camp, unable to stop or rest. He'd cracked a rib during the fight with the vampire but refused to let anyone come near him.

Rory was gone.

After they had cranked the gate up, they had discovered both Amon and Seraph, dead on the floor within. Kyrr had been bewildered, as Seraph's mangled body attested to something other than his innocence.

The door at the end of the second tunnel was open, snow and ice blowing inside.

When they returned to the surface, a pack member had come up to Kyrr, his eyes wide. He held a piece of paper in his hands, and once the alpha took it from him, he ran away.

Kyrr unfolded the note and read it, his eyes traveling the paper rapidly. Then he looked up, his face shocked. "Rory says that Seraph was responsible for all of this."

Aldric had asked to see the letter for himself. After reading it, he sat down in the snow, lost. Almost everything they had thought they knew was wrong. And he still couldn't understand why she had left. He didn't believe that she was so traumatized by what had happened that she needed to be alone—she would have left word for him.

"_Get away from me,"_ she'd told him. He repeated the memory over and over in his mind, trying to strain his recollection for the look on her face, in her eyes.

Somehow, it was him. He had done something.

Hours later, Aela approached him. Her eyes were bleary and exhausted, but she still managed a smile for him. "My Harbinger," she said. "Aldric."

Something in her voice made him stop and turn to her.

She handed a letter to him. "I must have missed this before I went to sleep. I found it tucked under the pillow that has your scent on it."

His heart thudded in his ears as he took it.

* * *

_You once said you would tear Skyrim apart looking for me, but you must let me go. I never want to see you again._

* * *

Kyrr had not left his position in front of his cabin, and would not speak. The alpha was deeply shamed that Seraph had been able to fool him so thoroughly and have such a secret kept from him in the depths of his own home.

As night began to fall over the mountains, Lejla came to him. She was handling the death of her daughter better than Kyrr was, and had taken pity on him. Putting a soft hand on his shoulder, she sat next to him on the ground.

He spoke without looking at her. "I thought the bond was supposed to prevent leaving like this."

Her voice was gentle. "It causes great inner pain with separation, but it is not impossible."

A long moment passed.

"Will it ever fade?"

"The bond?" Lejla asked. "Or the pain?"

"Both."

Her hand rested on his knee, trying to give him comfort. "As for the pain, I cannot say. But the bond's ties will lessen with time. You will not feel it so strongly in the coming years, if the separation lasts."

He stared out near the watchtower. Aela was talking to Kaspar, and whatever the scout was saying to her made her toss her head back with laughter, her hair catching the dying sun's rays prettily. "You mean to say that the bond never goes away."

Lejla followed his gaze and watched the two engage in playful conversation.

"No," she said after a long pause. "The bond never goes away."

"Thank you, Lejla."

She took the hint and stood, brushing snow from her legs, and then she left him alone.

Aldric turned and faced the horizon, watching the clouds drift by. The sun lighted them from beneath, and each cloud had turned a soft, buttery orange tinged with pink. They soared past him in the violet sky. It was amazing to see that no matter what had happened, the world around him still managed to be so beautiful.

He closed his eyes while his face was still tilted up. If he had any kind of religion, he would have prayed to the gods at that moment. He would have prayed for guidance, and for comfort, and for strength.

But Aldric did not pray. He stayed where he was, and he wondered how he would possibly get past this new kind of pain.

When he opened his eyes, he looked above him and saw that the stars were coming out. Aldric stretched out on his back on the cold ground, his hands underneath his head for a pillow, and he watched the skies.


	50. Epilogue

**Chapter 50—Epilogue **

The priestess looked up from the farmer she had been tending to. It was hot in the temple, despite the cold outside, and she did not wear the hood of her robes inside. She used the back of her hand to brush aside the tendrils of her long hair that stuck to her forehead.

"Thank you," the farmer muttered weakly. "I feel so much better."

She smiled as she tipped a shallow bowl of herbal water into his mouth. "You must rest now."

Tucking the blankets up to his shoulders, she rose and turned to the rest of the dim temple. Here and there were cots containing injured or sick citizens. Most of them slept soundly, finding long-sought relief for their pain at the healing hands of the priests and priestesses.

A figure stirred in the darkness. The priestess was surprised to see that the woman still waited for her. It had taken her a long time to tend to the farmer's injuries. The woman's patience surprised and pleased her.

The raven-haired woman approached her, moving silently and smoothly through the quiet temple. Behind her, on the bench she had been sitting on, a little girl had curled up and was fast asleep.

"You are still here," the priestess murmured.

"I am." The woman's eyes, so unique and lovely, stared back at her with a peaceful blankness.

"One of my sisters has informed me that you have already been examined," she said. "You are expecting a baby. Congratulations."

The woman looked away, past her. "Yes. I am. And I need this to…go away." Her mouth was a tight line.

The priestess was not taken aback. It was not uncommon to be visited by young, pregnant women that did not wish to become mothers. She looked past the woman at the sleeping child; if she already had children, it would not be so bad to give this one back to Aetherius.

"I understand." The priestess took the woman gently by the arm and guided her to a room in the back that would be more private. "It is not too late for me to give you a special tea to drink."

The woman said nothing, only pulled her arm away. She followed behind her until they reached the room where the tea was waiting for her next to a soft bed lined with linen sheets.

The priestess ushered her in. "You must remain in the temple until your body has completed the process. It should take no more than a day, and then after that you will continue to bleed. You will experience some pain, but it will not be bad. My sisters will come to check on you in the hours to come, and you must let them know if you require aid. We will care for your daughter."

The woman nodded her understanding at her.

Hesitating to return to the temple, the priestess turned around. "You are sure of this?"

"Yes." Copper eyes met her own blue ones. "I am sure."

"Very well," she said.

The woman crossed the room and stood over the tea. She picked up the cup, and the priestess closed the door.

* * *

**A/N: **The adventure continues in the intermission, "Shadows and Secrets" and the following sequel, "Reaching for Higher Ground." See my profile for the links!


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